Soldier, Soldier
by LFoz15
Summary: "My friends and I, we joined the army because it paid relatively well and we wanted an adventure. We fight because someone tells us to. It's so savage, but in a different way." Allie and Patrick were in Afghanistan. Now they're in Middle Earth. They signed up for an adventure, and now they're going to get one, for better or worse. (Boromir/OC)
1. Survive This

_**'I've survived a lot of things, and I'll probably survive this.' –J.D. Salinger**_

* * *

"Living easyyy , lovin' free"

"Patrick-"

"Season ticket on a one way rideeeee"

"Patrick would you shut the fuck up for three seconds, I'm trying to read this piece of crap map and your incessant wailing isn't helping."

The jeep at the head of the 4th Regiment Royal artillery unit rumbled along a dusty road- more of a dirt track than a road in Allie's opinion, but the map given to them by the logistics officers said road, so who was a lowly gunner to assume otherwise. The crew shuffled uncomfortably in the Afghan heat after what felt like hours stuck in the minimum comfort of their purpose-built ride on the way to their next position. Allie figured the light gun they were towing took priority over the six gunners dying in the rolling oven. Being on point and their tracking technology broken was not the most ideal of situations. Allie Fletcher wiped sweat from her brow, adding further grime to her forehead from her dusty engine oil ridden hands and frowned at the faded map, trying to ignore the conversation going on around her.

"How can you not like AC/DC!" Patrick cried with indignation, still tapping the tune on the gun resting on his lap, "and I can't believe you used your one profanity of the day allowance on little old me." His pale Irish cheeks had slowly become as red as his hair throughout the day, still not accustomed to the harsh central Asian heat.

"I couldn't think of anyone more worthy of a profanity or two," Lukas chuckled from behind the wheel, attempting to simultaneously inhale a cereal bar and readjust his sunglasses.

"Jeez cap, thanks cap, much appreciated cap" Patrick muttered, saluting sarcastically. The team gave a small chuckle and a comfortable silence filled the jeep as they continued to swelter in the cramped conditions, snacking and drinking from canteens every so often to try and fight dehydration. Allie wiped a few loose strands of her hair out of her dirty face behind her ear, dreaming of a nice cold shower and food that hadn't come out of a packet.

"We're about five klicks from our destination, just straight up this road. Not long 'til showers and proper toilets now, lads." The group all cheered, glad to be close to some sort of civilisation after a long, uneventful and quite frankly pointless tour.

"Proper plumbing would be a new experience for you wouldn't it Allie, being from Yorkshire and all." Patrick added cheekily, trying to get a rise from the proud woman in an attempt to overcome his boredom. The past few months had been spent stuck together, travelling through deserts and previously invaded towns and cities, looking out for any lasting resistance and giving supplies to the odd refugee community. To Allie it had felt like one hot sweaty family road trip in quite frankly the worst vehicle on the planet. Half the time was spent being mechanics attempting to create makeshift parts for the old, over used jeep.

"I don't know about you guys, but I cannot wait to down a few ice-cold beers and kiss my beautiful sexy wife" Lukas sighed, closing his eyes for a moment, picturing the scene with a grin plastered on his face. Paddy, the baby of the group, raised an eyebrow and made some rude joke about where the kiss was going to be, or whether it was just a kiss, or making babies or something. Allie wasn't listening; she was too busy picturing that pint glass dripping with condensation, that taste of beer, the laugh of her friends as they sat outside her favourite pub in her home town, spying on her favourite bearded barman in the sunshine. A jolt brought her from her daydream and Lukas turned the jeep's engine off after a few attempts to get it rolling again, looking around at the team. Voices came from the radio asking what the issue was, near impossible to hear due to the terrible connection, as the jeeps behind followed suit in resting the tired engines.

"Looks like we hit a hole" Lukas told the radio, confirming the command from the CO to check what was going on and give a SitRep in five, while everyone dug in. Lukas ordered three soldiers from the jeep behind to go and check on their load- an L118 light gun- while he, Patrick and Allie kept watch, guns and sights aimed at the barren, dusty surroundings. A niggling feeling ate at Allie's mind; they were in the open with a significant lack of cover, only the jeep having the potential to keep them out of any line of fire. Looking at what the wheels got trapped in, her fear grew as she observed the trench and noticed the sand at the bottom appeared darker, almost freshly dug. This wasn't just a rut in the road from extensive use- the only other signs of movement were sandal tracks and goat hooves.

"Umm Lukas," she called her friend over as he instructed Patrick to watch the quite empty horizon, giving him a scalding look as he caught him using his gun to perform a particularly intricate baton routine. "Does this hole look a bit peculiar to you? Like, a bit hand dug maybe?"

A worried look flashed across the blonde soldiers' face as they both thought the same thing. Ambush. As if on cue, a shout came from Patrick and they spun around to see a group of dots bobbing up and down behind a sand dune. A strange noise filled the air.

"RPG! Get away from the jeep!" One of the team shouted from behind the L118, Allie was too shocked to think who, as Patrick ran to help Lukas and Allie drag each other away from the incoming explosion. Time seemed to slow as Allie felt a blast of heat from the raging fire ball that used to be their old run-down jeep and a deafening crash enveloped her. The last thing she felt was Paddy's grip on her arm and her dog tags burning into her neck before she fell into darkness.

* * *

 **A** **llie**

Allie shot up like she'd just had a nightmare, struggling to regain her breath and quell the dizziness in the back of her head. It felt like she'd gone ten rounds with a bear (she assumed, having never gone ten rounds with a bear before) and she stuck her head between her legs in an attempt to ease her queasiness. After regaining her senses, she decided to do what all her training taught her to; stay calm, check surroundings, check supplies, plan ahead. That all nearly went out the window at stage two, when she looked around to find herself in a densely wooded area. A wood. In the middle of Afghanistan. Actual green trees and grass and bushes. Trying to act as if this was normal, she scouted her surroundings, and upon deciding there was no suspicious activity within the vicinity moved on to stage three. She still had her gun, 24-hour ammo pack and Glock which was a relief, and her backpack had enough rations for about 2 weeks, replacement clothes and some basic equipment for cooking and navigating. Noting her radio and helmet missing, she thanked god her pocket knife and hip flask (both crucial in case of emergencies) were still in her leg pockets and took a lucky swig from the latter.

All the while endless questions flew round her head. Where the hell was she? The gentle breeze and the vivid greenery suggested definitely not Afghanistan. How did she get here? All she could recall was being in the jeep with the crew and now she wasn't. Was this some sort of prisoner torture method? Had she been captured? Were the army testing her? This all felt too real to be some sort of simulation, and she daren't even consider the option of being dead or dumped in a loony bin.

Step four time. Allie decided the best plan of action was to find some form of life, be it friend or stranger. She tried not to think about the prospect finding someone not so friendly. The trees looked decidedly less dense and menacing towards her right, so without further ado and a quick rub of her dog tags, she determinedly headed off, every now and then daring to call one of her crew members' names.

After what had to be a few hours of walking, admiring the wonders of her beautiful surroundings as she went, from the tall trees to the odd bird she didn't know the name of to the lack of old rattling engine sounds and sticky humid air, she heard a noise from the bushes off to her left. Rushing to an annoyingly pathetic defensive cover behind a tree trunk, she held out her gun and waited for whatever it was to appear into the clearing. After about five minutes of silence, Allie couldn't take the tension any longer and aggressively whispered 'Marco,' hoping she hadn't just embarrassed herself in front of an innocent little bunny rabbit.

"Allie?!" A shocked reply came and a blonde-haired soldier walked out of the shadows. She immediately dropped her guard and rushed over to hug her friend, the emotion of seeing a familiar face in such a strange situation nearly overwhelming her.

"Incorrect reply, cap" she gave a small smile which Lukas returned, "do you have any idea what the hell happened? Where the hell we are? What the hell is all this?" Lukas gave a sigh, running a gloved hand through his hair and looking around in shock.

"Hell, I have as much of a clue as you do Allie. Have you seen any of the others? It feels like I've been searching for hours." They spent the next few minutes swapping their stories, Lukas seeming to remember more about how they got there, recalling a giant explosion and something wrong with the jeep before waking up here in a similar situation to Allie's. The presence of another human relieved them both, and if they were in a loony bin or an enemy produced simulation intended to gather intel, at least they were together... unless they were both simulations. Lukas chuckled at Allie's paranoia, as he agreed the best course of action was to try and locate some sort of civilisation or indication of where they were.

In hindsight, Allie kicked herself for allowing them to let their guard down for so long. Their guns were drooped at their sides as they reveled in each other's familiar company. Regardless of the situation you had to have your wits about you. For that brief moment Allie didn't. They failed to hear the rustling in the bushes until it was too late. Lukas suddenly became wide eyed during a debate about which direction to head off in and before Allie knew what was happening he'd shoved her to the side onto the grass of the clearing. She shot up in time to see a giant hairy... thing launching itself at Lukas. She brought up her gun and cleared three shots into the massive hairball as it struggled on top of Lukas on the floor and ended up slumped over his body. After a shaky breath she gave a small chuckle,

"Well that was a close call ey, Lukey boy? Getting killed by a yeti would be an embarrassing way to go." She rolled the thing off Lukas with a grunt and gave a small gasp upon seeing the blood around its fanged mouth and the hole in Lukas' belly. She muttered her own private shit under her breath before putting up a calm, soothing front. "You'll be alright Lukas it's just a scratch, just tell me what to do," she cooed, putting her hand to his cheek and pushing some hair matted with blood away from his face as he struggled to breathe on the floor. She pulled out his medical kit- while they all had basic first aid kits, Lukas role as one of the platoon medics gave him access to more stuff- and stabbed a morphine syringe into his thigh as he grimaced in pain, holding his hands to his torso. His face was paling quickly underneath the streaks of blood. His hand moved up to stop Allie's as she pulled some bandages out to stem the flow of blood. "What is it Lukas? I need to stop the bleeding. Just hold on you'll be fine... let me wrap this round you, just a little bit more pain then you'll be fine. Just keep picturing that cold beer and that sexy wife." She mumbled again, trying to keep a positive tone in her cracking voice.

"Save it... don't waste the bandages. Maybe that's where I'm going" Lukas chuckled and winced in pain. Allie grabbed his hand, trying not to show her desperation.

"What do I do Lukas, tell me how to help you." He grimaced again, his breathing becoming more ragged by the minute.

"Some whisky... would be good." Allie looked away for a minute, still grasping onto his hand, composing herself before turning back to face her friend with a small smile and a nod. Taking her hipflask, she watched Lukas take a gulp before resting his head back down and looking at the sky. Trying to ignore his guts leaking onto the grass, Allie kneeled by her friend as he let out a sigh and his eyes closed.

Before the tears came she planned. First, she would go and stamp whatever that... thing was' head in. Then she would honour Lukas as best she could. Then she would sort his ammo and supplies. And after that she had no ducking idea. Standing up she turned to the animal, which upon closer inspection looked to be a giant deformed wolf and used all her anger and sadness and panic to give it's jaw a swift kick. Its head snapped back and two cold, dead eyes stared at her mockingly.

She was again alone in this messed up situation, only now with a dead friend and even less of an idea of what to do. She fell to her knees again and took a few deep breaths, attempting to compose herself and keep the threatening panic attack at bay. They had been trained for this. Well... not this exactly, but for the unexpected. She took one last look at the animal before pulling out Lukas' poncho- supposedly their camo was 'multi-terrain pattern' but it stuck out like a sore thumb in the dark and dreary trees- and resting it over his body. She took his dog tags and put them in her breast pocket, along with a picture of him and his wife he always showed off, hoping she could return them both his family when she'd found a way out of this crazy situation. She considered his final words, about heading back after he died and took a short look at her gun, considering for a second.. only a second.. what would happen. Would it take her back? What did she have to lose? She shook her head at her own stupidity; there was no logical scenario where death would be the answer. If this was a simulation then she'd be dead, if this was a test she'd be dead and have failed terribly.

After switching all Lukas' spare ammo, first aid supplies, food and socks to her own rug sack, silently thanking him in the process and leaving him a pack of his favourite skittles behind, she stood up and observed her surroundings, pondering her next course of action. Another rustle came from behind her and she dropped and aimed her sight at a nearby bush, hoping more than anything this time it was an actual cute little bunny rabbit. But no. This time it was a stocky bearded man wielding a... sword?

* * *

 **Patrick**

Patrick's eyes fluttered open to a tranquil scene of trees and flowers and bir- wait trees?! His eyes swiftly closed again and continued to blink for the next few minutes in confusion. Was he in a dream? Was this in fact reality and Afghanistan the dream? Were they both dreams and he was in Inception or some shit? Trying to think back he remembered the jeep getting stuck. He remembered doing a particularly impressive baton routine and not even getting a laugh for it. He remembered the explosion. Feeling panic swelling up inside him he jumped to his feet and spun around, looking for anything that could possibly help. There right in front of him, watching with a hint of amusement, was a man with a big beard and a pointy hat sat on a wagon led by a particularly large horse. Patrick gave a startled look and dropped to pick his gun off the floor, aiming it nervously at the man who he began to think looked a bit like Dumbledore. He had quite clearly gone mad.

"You have no need to point that strange mechanism at me dear boy, I mean you no harm." The elderly man gave a kindly smile, making Patrick hesitantly drop his gun to the side. He took another look around and again met the gaze of the man in the hat, who was watching him patiently.

"I'm sorry sir," Patrick spoke hesitantly, remembering Allie's emphasis on manners when talking to strangers who didn't look like they were about to murder you. Allie... he quickly thought to his friends, wondering what had happened to them, feeling a pang of worry at the thought of never seeing them again, of spending his days travelling this strange land alone... "but where on earth am I? And who on earth are you?" The man looked at the boy with further interest, shifting his staff from one hand to the other.

"My boy you are about half a day's walk from the Shire, though by the looks of things I feel you will have no knowledge of such a place, or any place in these parts for that matter. And so, I shall say you are just north of the Shire, in the land of Middle Earth. And you may call me Gandalf. Gandalf the Grey." Patrick gave a small cough, even more confused than before.

"So... we're in the middle of Earth Mr. Gandalf the Grey? It's funny but just a few hours ago I was on patrol in Afghanistan with my platoon. I'm in the army you see. I've just woken up here. Never seen this place in my life." He knew he was rambling. He knew he was going against every rule in the book telling this stranger so much information and he knew Allie would probably find out and scold him regardless of where she was. But she also taught him to trust his instincts and his instincts were hanging a flashing green tick over this Gandalf the Grey's head. Upon hearing the word 'army' Gandalf's eyebrows raised.

"You are a warrior my son? Afghanistan, I have never heard of such a place... this is most unusual." He muttered to himself as Patrick stood there awkwardly, not quite sure what to do. After a few minutes of pondering Gandalf suddenly looked up with a smile, "you are to come with me, I am headed to the Shire for what I have no doubt will be a rather large and impressive one hundred and eleventh birthday. You can enjoy the good food and hospitality of the Hobbits, and we can discuss your peculiar situation further... and please my dear...?"

"Patrick"

"Patrick. And please my dear Patrick, it is simply Gandalf." Patrick was stumped as Gandalf held out his hand to help him into the wagon. He halted for a minute while picking up his bag pack, considering whether to reconsider going with this random old man he'd just met to a place he'd never heard of for an impossibly old birthday party. As Gandalf's kind smile reached his twinkly eyes, Patrick gave a mental ' _fuck it'_ and hauled himself into the wagon, only now realising the enormous stash of fireworks behind him, and figuring he'd rather be with a strange guy than with no one at all. If this was a guerrilla trap it was the most inventive one he'd never heard of, or he was a victim of the biggest army wide prank in existence.

"Gandalf, do you have any idea what's going on with me? Why I'm here?" Gandalf looked to Patrick then to the light clouds in the sky.

"Merely an inkling my boy, I feel it must be for something significant for you to appear so suddenly... and at such a time..." Patrick was already getting frustrated at Gandalf's wandering mind and ominous riddles and gave a thought to the rest of his team, wondering where they were and whether they'd found themselves in the same predicament as him. His body rocked with the rhythm of the horse's light trot, as he wondered what on earth a 'Hobbit' was.

* * *

Hello, first ever fic here! Just doing this for fun because who doesn't love LotR and Boromir.

I'm trying to make it as different as possible, I like the thought of soldiers in the situation of having to fight but with no experience of weapons/ tactics etc. I'm also wanting to do a mix of the films and books.

Open to constructive criticism, if anything's wrong or you don't like anything I'm happy to hear it!

I have the first few chapters written up already, so hopefully this will be one I actually write more than a chapter of, yay! Thanks :)


	2. Party On

**Allie**

 _'What is this, role play day?'_ Allie thought in the split second the two strangers observed each other. The man was larger than most she knew by all accounts, with broad shoulders and a strong posture. She knew he'd definitely out-muscle her in close combat and didn't plan on them getting that friendly. He wore a tunic with a grand tree in the middle and his limbs were covered in leather and chainmail. He had a rugged look to him, as if he'd been on the road a while. On his waist was an engraved horn and his hands grasped a rather long, rather large sword. Thinking she'd rather have the first person she'd met be a friend than an enemy, Allie lowered her gun slightly and raised her palms,

"I mean you no harm, I'll lower my weapon if you'll do the same." The man loosened his stance slightly and looked towards the lump of fur behind her.

"That warg has been hunting me for two days, another one should be close by. I heard noises." Allie nodded, not daring to look back at the body behind her.

"That thing killed my... friend, I shot him and now he's dead. Listen, I have no idea where I am, what a Warg is or what is happening. What year is it?" She added the last one just in case she was in a 'Back to the Future' scenario; the man's clothes added a 'time traveled to ye olde England' scenario into the pot of many brewing in her head. The man looked understandably unsure, keeping his guard up and his hand firmly on the hilt of his sword.

"My condolences for your friend. I am Lord Boromir, Son of Dethonor, Captain of Gondor. The year is 3018 and you are past the gap of Rohan by a week or so, in dark and troublesome lands west of the Misty Mountains. What is your business here?" The answers just confused Allie further; were these words supposed to be places? Of all her tours in random countries, none of them had places called 'Rohan'. She sighed and rubbed her forehead in an attempt to process everything. This man seemed super formal. He kept up the regal act well, and as she always taught Patrick, it was key to be polite to people who weren't trying to kill you.

"Apologies, Lord Boromir, I am corporal Allie Fletcher, 4th Regiment Royal Artillery of the British Army. I have never heard of the places you have mentioned and appear to be very lost and confused. The last I knew, I was on tour in Afghanistan when we hit trouble and I woke up here. Do you know anywhere I can speak to someone of authority or an embassy or council I can get in touch with?" Choosing her words carefully, she told him just enough that if this were a test they'd praise her for her diplomacy, but not too much that if this were an interrogation she'd revealed anything important. Boromir looked equally as confused as she felt.

"You speak of places and things that are foreign to me. A woman in an army? With such tales I wouldn't be surprised if you were a spy of Mordor." His broodingly grey eyes darkened and his grip on his sword tightened. She admired his hesitance as she would have naturally done the same, but grew frustrated.

"Look, I have no idea what a Mordor is and if this is some kind of an act, it's not funny. My friend is actually dead, my ammo won't last forever and I just want to know how to get back to where I was. Do you have a phone or anything on you? I'll call my command, the police, anyone!" She almost laughed, never in a million years did she think she'd want to be going back to Afghanistan. The look on his face showed he had never heard of any of the words she was saying and her heart dropped. This was either the best actor she'd ever seen, a madman, or someone who had genuinely never heard of a phone before. After a few seconds of silence, he sighed.

"Despite my hesitations, let no one say a man of Gondor will just leave a lady pray to your situation. You may follow me on my road to Rivendell if you can keep up. The elves are knowledgeable in such myths and mysteries. We must make haste; there are many days of walking and perils to come. Follow me if you wish." Allie thought for a time. On one hand, she could be alone in this strange place, wandering aimlessly until one of those *Wargs* attacked her again. On the other, she could follow this random man who had definitely just used the word 'elves' to a place that may or may not exist. She was never good at odds, but neither seemed positive. As the man turned to stride away through the trees, she hesitated a moment before hauling her backpack on, taking one last look at Lukas and jogging to catch up to Boromir of Gondor.

…

That was all they spoke for five days. They walked for hours in silence- Allie was used to long treks with her platoon, but they were decidedly more fun with the laughing and chatting of friends. She could see remnants of an old path they could have been following, but to an untrained eye wouldn't appear more than some gaps and tracks created by wildlife. Boromir made a fire as the dark of night set in and he ate what Allie saw was bread and dried meat of some kind from his bag, whilst she popped open an MRE and enjoyed an army standard chicken hotpot and vanilla pudding- a terrible end to a terrible day. She thought she'd manage to barter her way to a whole stash of chocolate pudding, but one must have slipped through. Boromir looked at her food with interest, but stubbornness and suspicion prevented him from asking about it. Neither of them slept that night; both laid staring at the sky, ready for a surprise attack from the other. Allie looked at the stars, noting they were much brighter and more dense than at home.

The next morning they packed and cleaned up camp before setting off in silence. Walking helped Allie think, and she had a whole day of it. She hoped someone at this Rivendell place had answers, or a way home, or even just a detailed plan of where she was. She hoped for his own sake that Patrick wasn't also here, lost somewhere all alone in the wild. She thought about Lukas, about his wife, about the person who'd have to tell her he'd died. She remembered in pieces the explosion, the ambush and the RPG, how they were so close to getting back to base and getting some nice hot food and being able to write to their families.

It was as they were settling down for their second night that she thought of her father. Tears were threatening to fall as she closed her eyes and saw Lukas' peacefully dead face. She tried to hold them in, but remembered her dad's saying,

"Better out than in I always say." She had told him, giggling through her tears as a child many that the saying was about burps and he had just smiled and shook his head. "Crying, Allie, is nothing to be ashamed of. It's just letting out all the sad to make way for the happy." And he did cry often. At films. At his favourite football team getting promoted. At the death of their dog, Chip. At the death of their cat, Dale. She wondered if he'd be crying now, if someone had told him that she'd died fighting for her country. If he'd cry if she found a way back and made her way home to him. If she would ever find a way back. It had been just them ever since her mother died while she was young. She hadn't cried; she hadn't understood at the time what it meant. She fell into a restless slumber trying not to picture her father crying over a coffin with her picture next to it.

Up to fifth day, the two walkers enjoyed further silence. It frustrated Allie, but she was too stubborn to be the first to break. After all, this man had been kind enough to let her- a complete and very suspicious stranger- travel with him; the ball was in his court. She spent her time taking in her surroundings. The air was always cool and to the east, through the mist, there were the looming silhouettes of a range of mountains. Snow peaked the tips and Allie pondered whether their journey would lead them over the daunting rises. They ate, laid down and slept, Allie falling into a dark dream of Wargs chasing and dead eyes watching.

She woke up with a shout, panting and sweating. Looking over in the worry her night time rumblings had woken Boromir, she was shocked to see his place empty. She glanced around the smouldering campfire into the trees, worry starting to creep in. Had he been taken? Had he grown impatient and left her? There was a rustle to her left and she went to grab her gun as she saw a familiar tunic clad torso wander through the trees. She breathed a sigh of relief as he threw something towards her.

"Breakfast," he grunted and she looked down to see a juicy red apple. The thought of something fresh after weeks of packet food was sweet relief to Allie and she munched down on it whilst offering her thanks. Hopefully that signalled the start of some companionship, or at the least conversation. They set off again, following the current of the stream. Allie had taken to walking on the other side of the horse, stroking his soft neck every now and then.

"What are those around your neck?" She peeked round the horse's head and Boromir was looking to the path ahead. She was grateful for the small talk.

"They're called dog tags. In our army we use them to identify people. If the bodies are too damaged or too many people get killed you'll know who the person is, their army number and rank. I took Lukas' because I figured his wife back home would like something of his. Something that was with him until the end. He was a good captain." Boromir bowed his head,

"my condolences, it is difficult to lose someone you look up to," the tone of his voice suggested he could relate "as a leader the most important thing is the respect of those under you, I'm sure he appreciated the admiration you had for him." She snorted,

"That maybe the case for staff sergeants and the those who actually lead from the front, I wouldn't say the same for the top people, the captains of the army all comfy back at camp who wouldn't give a second thought to us measly soldiers." She kicked the ground in frustration, imagining the top brass telling the world her team 'died with honour' 'they were heroes' but had never said a word to them in their lives. "Didn't you say you were in the army as well?" Boromir smirked slightly, the first positive sign she had got from him as he replied,

"Indeed, I am the Captain of our cities' entire army. In our world we lead from the front." She winced a bit and quickly muttered an apology,

"It seems we're in very different world to the one I'm used to." Nightfall came quicker that day, and as they made a fire and settled down to eat, Allie figured they'd levelled up slightly from mistrusting strangers.

 **Patrick**

After about an hour of trotting leisurely through leafy trees, the sun warming the tops of their heads (or hat, in Gandalf's case,) they came across a small figure in the distance. Patrick had attempted to describe more of what he remembered to Gandalf, whom he decided was quite knowledgeable in most things. He recalled the RPG, his friends and his role in the army. Gandalf seemed intrigued about this unfamiliar world Patrick spoke of, and insisted he detailed more of the workings of cars and radios at a later date. Patrick was the technology buff of their platoon so could go into great detail. In return Patrick gained a short overview of what he now knew as Middle Earth. He figured he'd have to see these dwarves and elves and men who lived to be over a hundred with his own eyes before he believed them. As they came closer to the person, Patrick started to realise he wasn't in fact far from them... he was just very small. The curly haired child looked up from a book as he rested upon a thick old oak tree and a large smile spread across his face.

"Gandalf!" The boy cried with glee, leaping onto the cart next to them. Upon closer inspection, Patrick noticed the boy's face was much older than he expected- that of a man. A perfectly formed, curly haired, tiny man had just leaped between him and Gandalf. There was a special name for those types of people- they'd jokingly named Martinez it from 4th Platoon who was a respectable 5"2- a homunculus! Patrick thought to himself as Gandalf explained to the person he wasn't late, having arrived precisely when he meant to.

"Besides! I became waylaid upon discovering our new friend. Frodo, welcome Patrick... Patrick of Ireland, a newcomer to our fine land of the Shire. He shall be our secondary guest of honour, first of course being Bilbo on his rather special day." Frodo grinned and bowed his head respectfully at Patrick, who guessed this little person might be the 'Hobbit' Gandalf spoke of. He thought of Allie, picturing her telling him to be polite. Should he call him Mr. Frodo? Mr. Hobbit? Mr. Frodo Hobbit?

"Greetings Patrick of Ire-land, I admit to never having heard of your lands before. Welcome to The Shire, finest home of the Hobbits of Middle Earth. And what a day you have chosen to visit! On the day of probably the biggest birthday in our history, no less." Patrick continued to worry in his head- so Hobbits were the people and not his surname? Or was it just a big family? Don't ask any stupid questions and offend him. He noticed Frodo's feet looked particularly large, bare and hairy- perfect for kicking him.

"Greetings to you too Mr... Frodo. I am very excited to be here. Though I must confess, I wasn't aware of any birthday so haven't brought a present." Both Gandalf and Frodo chuckled to each other,

"No need to fret about that my boy. If Bilbo's preparations have been anything to go by, it's everyone else who will be receiving the gifts. I've heard the whole village, invited or otherwise, will be attending. It's a good job too, all farmers and shopkeepers have been bought out of house and home!" As they neared the Shire, Patrick marvelled at the site before them as Frodo and Gandalf discussed their business. Green, rolling valleys with raises in the ground. Each bump had a circular door in them and a little garden. More little people of varying ages were sat outside their houses smoking pipes and drinking, tending to their plots or just staring out of their circular windows. He noticed most of them looked grumpy, suspicious or even downright angry at the sight of all three of them. He wondered which the looks were directed at. He hoped it wasn't him. Gandalf saw Patrick's worried expression and grinned,

"I don't have many fans around these parts. The disturber of peace, they hail me. They do rather enjoy my fireworks, however." He chuckled as a flock of children- super adorable extra tiny people- Patrick noted, raced after their cart, moaning with disappointment when nothing happened. Wondering if he should throw them some chocolate like he did whenever they saw kids running up to their jeep on tour, the back of the wagon suddenly exploded into a cloud of red sparks. They cheered, Gandalf gave a small grin and a passing older hobbit grumbled as the firecrackers whizzed and popped behind them. Frodo jumped up with a slap of his thigh,

"Well, I'm glad you're back, Gandalf. Patrick, I look forward to hearing some tales about this 'Ire-land' and showing you some of the best the Shire has to offer. Any friend of Gandalf's is a friend of the Bagginses!" And with that the infectiously cheery Frodo was climbing out of the cart.

"What a pleasant guy," Patrick mused out loud and Gandalf hummed with agreement, puffing on a pipe he'd had in his mouth the whole time he'd been talking, Patrick noted with appreciation.

"Frodo is a special breed, adventurous and daring. Very unlike a hobbit's nature. I feel you should be getting to know him a lot more by the time this is over..." the ominous statement got Patrick thinking. What were Gandalf's plans? Sure, Patrick was always up for a party, but had he forgotten he was lost in a world he'd never heard of before? Was this party a giant plan to get him drunk, then harvest his organs in a weird satanic ritual to a weird tiny god these tiny people worshipped? As if reading his mind, Gandalf gave Patrick a small pat on the arm,

"Fear not about your situation for the time being. If I know the world, and I've lived with it for many lifetimes, your coming will be understood when it is ready. Who knows, these celebrations may provide answers of its own. Stranger things have happened." Gandalf mumbled to himself for a second,

"Actually... some privacy... FRODO" he suddenly shouted at the slowly disappearing figure. Frodo curly head spun around and he jogged back to the cart, "how do you fancy showing our dear Patrick a few joys of the Shire until the party? Our musings have made me think a few private words with Bilbo would be best." Frodo nodded in understanding, a grin never leaving his face, and with that Patrick found himself being baby-sat by a Hobbit. The two wandered along, Patrick earning glances from any Hobbit they passed, varying from wonder to suspicion.

"It's a shame we do not have time to walk to our Capital; there is a museum there full of Hobbit trinkets from the past, including Bilbo's magnificent mithril chain mail. We shall just have to settle for a drink until the party." Patrick liked that option.

He sat outside a pub on the grass- the chairs were too small for his averagely sized human frame- and waited as Frodo went to buy them two drinks. He noticed the pub was called 'The Green Dragon,' the name of his favourite Chinese takeaway back home in Ireland. He fondly remembered takeaway night with his sisters- all six of them, all as ginger as he was- the fighting over the remote, (no way was he watching that Big Brother tripe, but of course he always ended up watching Big Brother) the sharing of the world's biggest bowl of prawn crackers, the peace that finally settled over them all as they ate and enjoyed each other's company. He wondered whether he'd ever see them again, before he mentally scalded himself for thinking such a thing. He was obviously in a weird coma after the attack and would wake up after this tiny Hobbit party with them all sat around his hospital bed. Probably.

Frodo dragged him from his thoughts as he passed him a tankard of what he assumed was beer.

"The finest ale to grace the Shire!" Frodo grinned taking a hearty gulp. Patrick asked about the famous Bilbo Gandalf had briefly mentioned and Frodo gladly recounted stories of his fond uncle, "Gandalf took him on quite the adventure a few years ago. Dragons, dwarves, you name it!" Patrick laughed and shook his head, drinking the beer which he had to admit was quite nice. Though more of a shots man himself, the beer was nice and light and fruity- not like the heavy dark stuff Allie liked to drink, ' _come on Allie, John Smiths? Could you BE any more Yorkshire_ ' he used to mock her every time they were in a bar. She'd give him a deadpan glare with a beer foam moustache in return.

"This may sound crazy Frodo, but a few hours ago I didn't even know Middle Earth existed, let alone dragons and dwarves. Where I'm from, it's just Earth." He reckoned if he were to trust anyone, this little dude seemed like the guy. Frodo pondered for a minute,

"That does seem a very peculiar situation. Though, if you were to land in front of anyone in Middle Earth, I have no doubt Gandalf is the best person to help understand it. I'd be weary around Bilbo, he'll be wanting to write your biography in no time. Our friend Fatty Bolger once drank so much he woke up the next day in front of Bag End with no memory of who he was or what happened. I don't suppose the same thing happened here?" Frodo joked. Patrick grinned and downed the rest of his beer,

"If that's the case, and it quite often has been, this is the strangest place I've ever woken up and the strangest kind of hangover I've ever had." He offered to buy the next round, and upon realising Hobbits probably wouldn't want his strange money, offered Frodo one of his apple turnovers from his MRE pack in return. As Patrick was about to learn, Hobbits were very interested in food and Frodo was very interested in learning about new things, resulting in the next few hours involving Patrick discussing the various foods available on his own 'just Earth.'

…

The party was the most interesting thing Patrick had ever witnessed. As much food as he could imagine, all sorts of meats and cheeses and vegetables, more like the world's biggest Sunday roast than the party rings and cocktail sausages parties at home served. He realised how hungry he was and ate until he could eat no more. He figured he needed to soak up the beer he'd been drinking since that afternoon with Frodo. He had a chat with the infamous Bilbo,

"My boy you MUST tell me all about this strange world of yours Gandalf has spoken of, it would make a wonderfully bizarre book," and was now sat with an ale in each hand on the grass under a canopy, watching little people dance their merry hearts away. The alcohol meant Patrick received fewer glares and he even received the odd smile. Frodo's friends merrily introduced themselves as Merry, Pippin and his gardener and closest confidante Sam. Patrick's alcohol fuzzed mind chuckled at how merry the appropriately named Merry was. They proceeded to quiz him about his strange life, focussed primarily on any strange food and drink his world may have. He made a note to ask Gandalf whether he should create some sort of cover story- not everyone would be as welcoming and intrigued as the harmless Hobbits. He'd definitely be willing to change his name if he had to. Probably to James Bond.

He was imagining himself as James Bond when a particularly jolly, rather pretty curly haired lady hobbit came towards the group and attempted to seduce Patrick onto the dance floor. He gave a mental 'fuck it' and leaped up into the centre of the marquee, making sure to crouch as he went and not bring the whole place down. His drunken mind was sure Allie would be proud that he was participating, getting out there, jigging with the Hobbits. It was kind of like the Irish jig they were doing anyway and he'd become a pro at that after two of his sister's weddings. After the song ended and he gave a severely over-elaborate bow to whom he now knew to be Rosie, he flopped back down onto the floor next to a sombre Sam,

"Who's dog died?" They all looked at him confused, looking to each other as if asking why they hadn't told each other their dog had died, "hmm.. why are you down?" He asked and they all looked to Sam with a hint of mischievousness in their eyes,

"You've just been cordially introduced to the love of Sam's life, who doesn't know she's the love of Sam's life yet." Merry winked and Sam unknowingly gave a small wistful sigh as he watched Rosie smiling and dancing. Patrick whistled and slapped his thigh,

"Well what are you waiting for? Go get your gal! As I always say, do what you want and do it quick, before you find yourself in another world filled with wizards and hobbits!" The four of them cheered and forcibly encouraged Sam nearer to Rosie, who turned and grabbed his hand whilst still dancing. Sam gave them a look of shock horror and glee as he disappeared into the crowd.


	3. Eating Gary

**Allie**

The two spoke more freely the next day, questioning each other about their very different lives. Allie found herself explaining everything from the different countries and governments, to the mechanics of a car and details of her current campaign before she landed herself in the woods. It was interesting trying to explain something so familiar to someone with no knowledge of anything. She in turn learnt about the world of Middle Earth as she discovered it to be called. Her mind whirred as Boromir spoke of a simpler life of swords and horses, of races of men and elves and dwarves, of the evil they are currently facing from the dark land of Mordor.

"You've been on the road for 66 days already?!" She gasped and he nodded as if it were nothing,

"And we may have as many days left, should the weather stay fine and we experience no further Warg attacks. It is strange for them to come so far up North, but evil is finding its way to the most peaceful of places." She was starting to decide she was in a nice coma adventure- some blunt force trauma to her head during the explosion probably knocked her into a nice long sleep and she was entertaining herself with a grand tale of exploration to pass the time.

That evening, Boromir asked her about her strange food and Allie tried to explain the physics behind her chemically heated pack. She got to the snack part of her meal and gasped,

"Please on all that is good in this world say you have chocolate in this place." Boromir's expression confirmed her fears, "it is decided; I'm in hell being punished for my sins." She instantly went about rationing the rest of her supply, before grabbing a bar and halving it. "Now, as thanks for letting me tag along on your journey, I will show you one of the best... nay, the greatest food to never grace this sad earth. And no, it's not poisoned." She handed him half the chocolate and watched as he suspiciously sniffed it and went in for a nibble. His face scrunched up slightly before he saw Allie's hopeful expression,

"It's very... sweet." She raised an eyebrow,

"If you don't like it, I'd rather you gave it back than be polite, this is valuable goods now. Rare to these lands." He smiled slightly before handing it back and watching as she tenderly folded it back into the wrapping and back into her bag. "It's the little things that bring the most comfort I find, a bar of chocolate, a pint at the pub..." Boromir nodded in agreement,

"After a battle nothing is more refreshing than toasting a victory with your men."

"Do you have darts here?" Boromir's confused expression was becoming one of his more used ones the more they spoke. She explained the game she played at the pub with her friends, about how you threw little sharp pointy sticks at a board and the one with the most points won. "These dog tags are lucky you see, I've never lost a game of darts wearing these" she tapped them proudly. Boromir considered the concept for a minute,

"We do have something similar, we call it... knife throwing" and Allie gave a small grin as he explained the concept of throwing knives, (that was it- that was the concept.)

"Show me what you've got then!" She exclaimed, jumping up and using her pocket knife to draw two circles, one inside the other on a tree. She pointed at the bullseye, motioning for him to take aim. After a few limp refusals and shakes of his head, he pulled out a dagger and took aim, hitting just outside the centre. "Not bad.. not good, but not bad," she nodded her approval as he made weak excuses about the dying light and the questionably carved circles. He motioned for her to go next, and as she walked back towards the fire she yawned dramatically and said it was probably time they got some sleep. They both slept better that night, Allie thinking as she drifted off, at the worst if he did try to kill her in her sleep at least his dagger was stuck in a tree, at the best she'd found someone who, whilst possibly still crazy, was quite interesting to spend a two month hike with.

…

The next few days, whilst difficult, Allie found much more pleasurable, spent either in a less paranoid more peaceful silence as they kept up a steady pace or discussing their lives. The forests they walked through were vast and rich, Allie's eyes growing wide at every flower she'd never seen before and bird that whistled past their ears. The stream they followed had grown into a hearty river, which flowed strong and enabled them to fill up their canteens. Allie also allowed herself the odd pit and privates wash when Boromir went to relieve himself. He explained they were aiming for a great river Greyflood near a place called Tharbad. The river they were following met the dauntingly named water and they would have to fight across it in order to continue on their path.

"What is your purpose for going on such a journey? Why would the Captain of your cities' entire army leave on a long quest when there is such a threat at your door?" Allie was refreshed by how honest they both spoke, there was none of the second guessing or judgement she found with normal people, they'd ask their questions out of pure interest. Boromir sighed and tousled his goatee, which Allie had started to wonder whether he had brought any grooming equipment for considering it looked quite well tamed for a journey already lasting 60 days.

"Indeed, that very issue weighs heavily on my mind every day. But my visit to Rivendell is what is best for my people... it must be. It came to me in a dream, a warning, a sign and a direction all at once. It told me I must travel to Rivendell and seek Council surrounding the fate of our world."

"Seek for the Sword that was broken:

In Imladris it dwells;

There shall be counsel's taken

Stronger than Morgul-spells.

There shall be shown a token

That Doom is near at hand,

For Isildur's Bane shall waken,

And the Halfling forth shall stand."

Allie raised an eyebrow,

"That's quite the risk, to travel all this way because of a dream. A riddle within a dream." Boromir nodded,

"Admittedly so, but one I must take. The dream showed me the way through perilous trails and hasn't led me astray thus far and when you first appeared to me, next to the corpse of the creature that had been threatening my presence for days, it was as if you were another sign that this was the correct decision." Allie chuckled at the irony, casting a glance at Boromir's serious face,

"That's funny, you think I'm an illusion and I think you're a figment of my imagination. I'm supposed to be in a temporary barracks with my platoon right now, but I'm here with you, a Captain on a quest. Hopefully Rivendell has answers for both of us." Boromir nodded, a small amused smile creeping onto his face. Allie offered him a cracker from her pack and he greatly accepted the more familiar of her strange foods. She silently noted to herself she'd probably have to find an alternate source of food if she was going to survive two months of travelling. Boromir had packed all he could for a journey of unknown length and was running low on bread and dried meats. He spoke of some knowledge of berries and roots should they need them. As if on queue, a cute little creature Allie had never seen before popped up from behind a tree. It was almost like a Marmot, she pondered, or a cat sized guinea pig, as she stopped walking and crouched holding out a cracker crumb. It had obviously never seen a human before as it confidently wandered up to her hand and sniffed the cracker.

"There you go little buddy. Little Gary. Are we friends? Can I give you a little stroke?" she mumbled as she gently tickled the top of his head as he sat nibbling his crumb. She turned to show Boromir her new friend and he gave her a look. She regretted naming him Gary. "You want to kill and eat Gary, don't you?"

As they settled down that night to a feast of Gary and dried fruit, Boromir asked the question Allie had heard surprisingly often in her first world, equality driven country.

"I must admit, part of my scepticism for believing your story is the notion of yourself, a woman, in the army. I have heard of Elven women acquiring defensive skills, but in the world of men it would be unheard of, shocking even, to allow women to fight as a man would." Allie shrugged while gnawing on an annoyingly tasty Gary leg.

"Even in the army people don't believe women should fight. They say I'm too weak, too emotional. But I passed the same test they did. I figured if they pitted me against someone stronger than me, I can just kick them where it hurts." Allie thought again back to her father, about how he eagerly encouraged her to do anything and everything active. Be it rock climbing, football, even a bit of rugby, she was doomed from birth to do something that didn't involve sitting for too long. She took pride in feeling strong; it made her confident in a way that meant she didn't have to linger on how she felt her nose was slightly too long, or her shoulders were a bit too broad for her liking. Boromir considered her reply for a second,

"Your words sound so real I almost believe they are."

"And you smell so real I almost believe you are!" The fire lit up both their amused faces, as Allie noted with relief Boromir for all his formalities could take a joke, and laid down for her- eleventh? Twelfth? She'd already lost count- night of sleep next to the strange man in a strange world.

 **Patrick**

"My dear Bagginses and Boffins, Tooks and Brandybucks, Grubbs, Chubbs, Hornblowers, Bolgers, Bracegirdles and Proudfoots. Today is my 111th birthday!" _Damn this dude looks good for 111, are all Hobbits that long lasting? It's not like they do anything strenuous.._. Patrick daydreamed as Bilbo thanked his friends for attending, remembering Allie's last birthday, the big 28 and she'd spent it with their platoon in dreary wet Scotland on a training exercise. They'd found a tiny little pub with three people in, played some darts (of course Allie won) and Lukas had mixed a giant chocolate pudding out of all their MRE deserts. Patrick and Allie had revived their old karaoke band, _The Procfailers_ (they sang only The Proclaimers songs in their not in the slightest Scottish accents) and Patrick had tried it on with the questionable barmaid and she had laughed in his face. It was a good memory. He hoped Allie was back home, or if she was here like him at least with people as pleasant as those he had met. Patrick looked up and Bilbo was nearing the end of his speech. He had started mumbling and fumbling in his pocket.

"I regret to announce this is the end. I am going now. I bid you all a very fond farewell… goodbye." And with that he vanished. Into thin air. Without a trace.

"What the fuuuuu..." Patrick muttered before realising he'd already used his profanity for the day. He turned to Gandalf to give an accusing eyebrow, figuring if anyone could do magic it'd be the self-proclaimed Wizard with fireworks which scared Patrick shitless by turning into a giant dragon. Gandalf was also nowhere to be seen.

"What the fuuuuu..." Patrick said a second time, directed at Frodo. The hobbits began to grumble and mumble about Bilbo and his old tricks. This would fuel the rumour mill for a few weeks at the least and ended the party mood with a bump. Frodo quietly excused himself and made his way back to Bag End; Patrick followed suit with a quick wave to his new companions.

"Bilbo?" Bag End was unusually dark and unwelcoming, the crackling of a small fire and the smoke rising from Gandalf's pipe the only life. Gandalf turned to them, mumbling about something ' _precious'_ and _'riddles in the dark.'_ He was obviously distracted by something as he informed Frodo he was now the proud owner of Bag End and the rest of Bilbo's possessions, including a ring Patrick wondered why was so important. He swished his cloak in a motion Patrick figured was to signify his exit.

"Where are you going?" Frodo questioned, Patrick noting a look of concern and worry on his brow. He figured he'd feel the same if his uncle Jed just disappeared and a wizard was telling him the man was now hanging out with elves. He'd probably take him to be sectioned soon after.

"We," he turned to look at Patrick, "have some questions. Questions that need answering." Patrick looked at a dismayed Frodo. He wanted to comfort his new friend but was secretly relieved at the thought of possibly finding out what was going on and if he could get home. The thoughts quickly sobered up his brain. "I will be back as soon as possible. In the meantime, keep it secret. Keep it safe."

Gandalf swiftly strode out the door and Patrick hurriedly grabbed his pack from the side of the entrance (always keep your items close, just in case, he could hear Allie chastising him as his pack got stolen by a couple of youths during their tour of Iran), gave a quick nod to Frodo, wondering if he'd ever see him again and followed Gandalf into the night.

As he unfastened his horse from its wooden post and prepared to leave, Patrick hoisted his pack onto the cart. "Where are we off to then? To see the Wizard of Oz?" Patrick grinned before realising Gandalf probably didn't get the reference. Maybe he hadn't completely sobered up after all.

"We must travel to Minas Tirith. Your appearance and the events surrounding this... ring, cannot be a coincidence. We may not like what we find there and can only hope we are not too late. Pack light. We will stop at Bree for supplies and another horse, then make haste for the citadel. We will be on the road for a few weeks, can you...?" Patrick nodded and patted his rucksack,

"Gandalf, where I'm from that sounds like a holiday. Fresh air and no Lukas stinking the place out with his testosterone? Perfection." He decided to leave out the fact he'd never ridden a horse before. As they trotted out of the Shire into the night, Patrick wondered how soon he could get home to his nice cosy bed and Series 4 of _Lost_. Or even just to his Humvee in a sweltering hot country with people he knew. A hint of him also wondered if he'd ever see the joy and wonder of the Shire again. He imagined it was what Yorkshire looked like, picturing Allie dancing with a bunch of tiny, hairy men to quench the sense of foreboding he felt from Gandalf's ominous words.

After a night and a day of riding they found themselves in a small village Gandalf named Bree. Patrick asked him if this was where the cheese came from and naturally, Gandalf had no clue what he was speaking about. They gathered supplies- well, Gandalf paid and Patrick followed him around stalls with great interest- from dried meat to dried fruit to bread and cheese. Patrick took the opportunity to tell Gandalf about the few rations he had left, the wizard taking particular interest at his Lancashire hotpot in a bag. They purchased a cloak and some more 'normal', less stand out clothing for Patrick and spent the night at an inn called the Prancing Pony.

Patrick swigged on a beer and watched as Gandalf had a deep discussion with the cherry faced, slightly plump, flappy innkeeper. Many people eyed him with suspicion and Patrick considered buying an inconspicuous hat. Maybe a Stetson. He loved cowboys. Gandalf returned to the table, mumbling about the innkeeper and his forgetful ways,

"Dear Butterbur would lose his head if it weren't screwed on." Patrick slept well that night on a bed where his feet didn't poke out of the bottom. The smells and noise of the pub drifted through the floorboards as Gandalf sat smoking his pipe staring deep into the fire.

…

That morning Patrick woke to the heavenly smell of bacon and eggs. For a second he thought he was at home, until he remembered no one at home had ever made him bacon and eggs.

"Good morning, young Patrick. I have brought your breakfast upstairs, so we can get up and off as quickly as possible. We need to make good time in the light as the days are getting shorter." Patrick tousled his ginger bed head and cracked a few back muscles, before wolfing down the crozzled breakfast (just the way he liked it) and following Gandalf out of the door. The wizard had already readied two horses outside the inn for them, and Patrick chuckled nervously as he looked at his new ride.

"Hello there, new friend. Are you going to be nice to me? Of course you are." The horse gave a whinny and shook his head, Patrick taking it as a bad omen as he attempted to copy Gandalf in pulling himself up and over the horses' back. "Is now a good time to say I've never ridden a horse before?" Gandalf's chuckle turned into a cough as he choked on his pipe.

"All you must do is hold on and remember to feed him. He will do the rest." Patrick named his noble steed Patrick Jr.

The next few weeks passed much the same. They developed a routine of riding, resting and riding again. Gandalf took great joy in sampling Patrick's chicken curry and pork and dumplings. He didn't take as much joy sampling his marmite.

"it is a very… peculiar taste. And the texture… not pleasant." They discussed the present situation, Gandalf voicing his concern about this mysterious ring Bilbo Baggins had obtained, of its' not so pleasant previous owner, and the pull it seemed to have on those who possessed it. He had no theories on Patrick's appearance and dismissed with chuckles Patrick's own theories of this being the ultimate army test of Patrick's suitability for joining an elite 'Mission Impossible' esque task force. Exactly the sort of dismissal he'd expect from a character in such a test, Patrick mused to himself.

On what Patrick figured must have been nearing the end of the third week of riding, Gandalf stopped at the ridge of a hill and Patrick gently pulled his new best friend Patrick Jr to a halt next to him. The sight in front of them took Patrick's breath away. The city rose like a wedding cake, the white buildings shining in the late morning sun. A long walkway jutted out of the centre of the city like the front of a boat crashing through an iceberg.

"Welcome to Minas Tirith, Master Patrick. Capital of Gondor, home to Lord Dethanor, Steward of Gondor. It is perhaps best to say as little as possible to the man. His suspicion has made him a weary and bitter soul, and he does not consider me a friend."

"Who does," Patrick muttered in response, as his eyes were drawn to the harsh, threatening mountains to the West of the city. Gandalf had mentioned the land of Mordor, a place to be feared, and Patrick could see why. The place oozed darkness and was a stark contrast to the brightness of Minis Tirith.


	4. Library Trips

**Allie**

Their passage grew increasingly tricky. They developed a routine of waking and eating, then walking, walking and more walking (Allie figured they were averaging about 20-30 miles a day) then settling down as the moon started to rise. The terrain was rough, any sign of a faint path now lost to roots and stones perfect for stubbing a toe on. They'd developed a subtle, polite, very English means of hinting they needed privacy to attend to certain needs and Boromir had respectfully wandered off to hunt while Allie changed her very sweaty, very smelly under layers and left her dirty ones hanging to dry over the fire after rinsing them in the stream. They walked in a comfortable silence, snacking on fruit and jerky from Allie's supplies- a food which Boromir enjoyed very much. They also spoke of familiar things they were both so far from, Allie describing her pseudo little brother Patrick with joy in her voice. From his terrible antics in the army, pranking Lukas usually involving insects in some sort of clothing, to his intelligence and interest when he was learning something new or inventing the next big thing in his head. Boromir spoke of his actual little brother, Faramir, his quieter, more thoughtful and less assertive counterpart whom Allie became to be quite fond of the thought of. She had determined Boromir to be a stoic type, a strong and proud man to the core, who cared more for his people than himself and found joy in adventures and battle rather than politics and drama. She found it interesting to compare their positions.

"You fight for a purpose, a cause, a life, even. It sounds like you lead your men into an out and out battle to death or victory. It's so personal, how close you get to both each other and your enemy. Me and my friends, we joined up because it paid relatively well and we wanted an adventure. We fight because someone tells us to. It's so savage but in a different way, our enemies are usually hiding in a window and we destroy the whole building or disguised as women and children to get close to us." Boromir naturally found it horrifying that women and children would be used; for the people of Middle Earth there was to him a clear cut line dividing the good and evil in the world.

A few weeks along what Allie determined must be the longest river in the history of rivers, they began to face a more dense forest, resorting to either traveling through the river or through a dark path further into the trees. They opted for the latter and Allie strained to hear the bubbling and flowing of the river over the thick undergrowth. It could have been around midday- not that they could have known as the trees blocked any sign of sky- when they both grabbed for their weapons as they heard a cracking and rustling through the dark trees beside them. Boromir slowly began to unsheathe his sword as Allie raised her gun and placed the bushes in her sight, hoping it was just a Gary version 2. A low, throaty growl dismissed her hopes as she saw the unmistakable cold, black eyes of the creature that killed Lukas. As it leapt onto their path, Boromir raised his sword and Allie fired two quick rounds into the Warg's skull. Black blood flew out of the back of its head as it slumped to the floor in front of them and after a few birds fled from the trees around them in terror, there was an eerie silence. Boromir slowly lowered his sword and went to check the Warg.

"That is indeed a powerful weapon, but it creates much noise. We must be discreet lest we risk anything worse tracking us." Allie took the hint and lowered her gun, clicking on the safety.

"My ammunition won't last forever, either. I'll probably want to save it for emergencies, or until I find a way of getting more." _or until I get home_ she thought to herself but didn't dare say, "I'm sure you're more than proficient with that thing" she motioned with her head to Boromir's sword which he was about to re-sheath, "do you think I should probably... learn? You know, just in case you get attacked and I have to use it to defend us, or in case I get to Rivendell and they send me on a mad quest to save the world?" She mumbled to a halt, knowing she was rambling. Boromir pondered for a second,

"I would hope in those scenarios you would use your own weapon. However, I do see a benefit to you having some level of proficiency with a blade. We can discuss some basics when we stop to rest. In the meantime, this Warg should provide us with plenty of meat for the next few days. Have you any knowledge of preparing such creatures to eat?" She had not. She was about to learn the hard way.

…

What Allie could only assume was roughly a month, three thousand meals of meat and fruit and one million miles later, the fateful day came when they reached the great river of Greyflood. And it truly was great. The water gushed across boulders creating menacing rapids. It looked to Allie about a hundred meters in length, and upon closer inspection and a quick finger dip, was easily waist height for Boromir- as a result about chest height for her- and bloody freezing. There were ruins of an old, heavily damaged bridge which would have been very useful right about now.

"Right. How do we proceed with this?" Boromir looked left to right, considering his options and probably deducing they had very few, looked at Allie with tired eyes. You could tell he had been away from a proper bed for more than a few months.

"I fear the current is too strong for the horse... sorry, _Philip_ ," she had insisted they named him Philip, saying he looked more like a Philip than whatever he was originally called, "we may have to gather our things and pray we make it to the other side." Allie took a deep breath, nodded, and started packing as many loose odds and ends as she could into her rug sack.

"Just put everything on your head to keep it dry. It'll be like a walk in the park." Boromir raised an eyebrow at her optimism before doing the same. They both unpacked Philip, removed his saddle and reigns and gave him one last pat as he wandered off into the woods. Allie hoped he'd gone off to live a nice free life with lots of grass and not straight into the mouth of a hungry Warg.

"Here goes nothing," She braced herself as she took the first shivering step into the icy water. The current nearly dragged her away instantly, as she gripped onto her items for all they were worth. Boromir strode in beside her, keeping up a much more stoic appearance as he lightly wobbled and sucked in the tiniest bit of air at the temperature change. Allie wasn't afraid to use up her profanity allowance and more as she "fuck fuck fuckity fuck"ed her way to the middle of the coursing river.

"Are you okay?" Boromir shouted over the roar of the current just as Allie tumbled slightly on a particularly mossy boulder and crashed to her knees on the bed of the river. The water seeped up over the collar of her top and her chest froze. Boromir moved towards to help but she shook her head determinedly,

"I'm f-f-fine. Thank you." She stuttered, using all her energy to slowly push herself up onto her feet, ignoring the thudding in her kneecap and remembering her manners. They made it to the other side and Allie collapsed on the bank, wincing as she rode her soggy trouser up to see an already bruising knee.

"We've made enough progress today. Let's ready the fire and rest your knee." She appreciated Boromir's efforts to help her pride with minimal fuss and didn't complain at the notion of a rest day.

A hearty fire was built just off from the bank, hidden from too much sight beneath some shallow trees. Allie made them both some makeshift stick clothes horses with which to dry their clothes which Boromir found very amusing. He stripped down to his undershirt and under trousers, impressing Allie with them still being dry. She began to unbutton her soggy jacket when she remembered Boromir's notions of respectability. She had made the mistake of showing hair to an army official when in Saudi Arabia and took care to respect societal expectations ever since.

"I'm going to dry my wet clothes now, but only have a spare vest. Is that acceptable?" She could have sworn she saw his cheeks redden slightly in the light of the fire as he nodded curtly,

"Our situation deems it necessary. Of course, you must let your clothes dry." She placed her jacket, socks and trousers on her home-made clothes dryer and left her boots next to the fire. She huddled closer and let the heat of the flames lick at her damp chest and leggings, sighing contently.

"You have never mentioned the pictures and markings on your arms. What do they signify?" She looked down at her tattoos and realised something so normal to her might again seem so foreign to another- Boromir had mentioned Dwarves engraved runes onto their skin but made no comment about him or his people.

"Ooh story time. Where to start... this one," she pointed to an astronaut on her shoulder, "is a traveller from our world. We've been from east to west and from north to south, so some people decided one day to build a big ship- kind of like one that goes on the sea, but with wings like a bird- and shoot it up into the sky." She pointed up at the stars above, "a man called Neil Armstrong was the first person ever to step on the moon, and this was the armour he wore to breathe up there." She could tell from Boromir's face it was one of the stories they shared which bordered on almost too unbelievable, like the time he told her cave trolls existed and weren't just in Harry Potter. "This one," she pointed to her forearm, "is Athena. In our ancient history, thousands and thousands of years ago there were a people called the Greeks who believed in Gods who decided their fate and ruled over all. Athena was the goddess of war, and wisdom. She was very strategic and brave and strong. I try to think of her in challenging situations. She reminds me of my mother, or how I hope my mother was before she died." Boromir lowered his head in understanding,

"My mother also died when I was young. My father hasn't been the same since and dislikes to remember her, but I still recall her smile, how she used to think about everyone but herself and always stood proud in adversity. I hope I am like her in some ways." Allie gave him what she hoped was a sincere smile,

"From the hospitality you've shown me I'm sure she'd be proud. Moving on, this one," She tried to brighten the tone, pointing to her right bicep, "is the greatest predator on our whole planet Earth. His blood is acid, which means if you cut him and get some on you it erodes your skin. He needs no eyes because he has perfect hearing and smell, and inside his jaw is another smaller jaw for an extra sucker punch if you get too close. He's feared by all and we call him the... Xenomorph" she whispered his name to add tension. She figured Boromir would never know about the film Alien, he didn't even know what a film was really, so it wouldn't hurt to exaggerate things a tiny bit. It would be revenge for him making up the cave troll.

 **Patrick**

As they rode towards the gates, an armoured clad man shouted down from the tall walls. Patrick thought the man looked like he'd come straight from a re-enactment session, helmet and chainmail and all. His test theory was growing more sensible by the day, in his opinion.

"Who goes there? What business do you have in the city of Minas Tirith?"

"I am Gandalf the Grey, you may know me from my many visits to the city. This is my friend Patrick of Ireland from the East. We have come to seek council with Lord Denethor. He is not expecting us but should welcome us." Patrick smirked at the hint of sass in Gandalf's words, as the guards discussed his answer with others, before sending a runner to alert the Steward of their presence and eventually opening the gates. He looked up at all the layers of city he'd have to climb up and gave a little groan. They tied Patrick Jr and Gandalf's horse next to the front of the gates in some well-kept stables- Patrick assumed they belonged to the soldiers with how impressively large they were- and followed a guard up the many layers and steps towards the castle at the very top.

"Gandalf!" Patrick heard a cry of joy from a man running towards them as they reached the front of the fortification within the main citadel. There was a garden with a magnificent white tree in the centre. Patrick caught his breath as he wondered who this man was; younger and decidedly happier to see Gandalf than the Steward he'd described. "What a pleasure to see you again. What brings you to the White City?"

"My dear Faramir. I have business with the city's archives. Questions and answers to be matched together." The tall man's grey eyes crinkled into a smile,

"As cryptic as ever, my old friend. And who is your companion? He does not look from these parts, or any I have visited?" Patrick wondered what made him look so weird as he smiled and gave a small nod in the man's direction,

"This is Patrick, a new but already fond friend of mine. He has travelled from the East in search of his fate." Faramir returned the nod as Patrick gave a mental 'aww shucks' at Gandalf calling him a fond friend.

"Any friend of Gandalf's is a friend of mine. It would be interesting to hear of the East- I am yet to travel far in that direction and it always appears most mysterious. Indeed, Boromir has travelled himself on a mysterious path in search for answers. He is in search for Rivendell after we both received a most confusing dream." Faramir detailed to Gandalf his visions of a broken sword and the awakening of 'Isildur's Bane.' Gandalf's brows furrowed at the words and he was about to mumble a response when the doors behind them flew open. An impressively tall man strode into the courtyard, his long dark hair bellowing around his equally dark robes.

"Gandalf the Grey. Gracing our streets once more. Have you come to help or for help?" The man almost sneered, and Patrick guessed this to be the Steward instantly.

"Fear not, Lord Denethor. We wish only to access your archives then be on our way. We will not trouble you with our presence." The steward sneered again, insisting he had researched the archives many times and would know of what they required. He honoured Patrick with a suspicious side glance and nothing more and Patrick tried to stay as quiet and still as possible. He didn't want to end up in some dungeon or in some strange torture device. This Denethor fellow looked like he'd take great pleasure in ripping his gonads off for no reason.

After a few cold words on both sides, the steward left, Faramir bid them a fond farewell and a guard led them into the building through winding, torchlit corridors. They stopped at a grand wooden door, which when it opened revealed walls and walls of books and papers. Patrick looked into the room and back at Gandalf.

"Reading? Are we going to be reading? All day?" He groaned as Gandalf gave a determined nod. The last reading Patrick had done was a Playboy magazine in a portaloo in the middle of the desert.

...

"Isildur, High King of Gondor… Ring of Power. The one ring… precious to me… only fire can tell…" Patrick sighed for the fiftieth time as Gandalf mumbled to himself and Patrick threw aside yet another page of scribbles. So far he had learned a lot about a little. As far as he could tell, lots of wars happened here and that was where the similarities with his Earth's history ended.

That was until a single name caught his eye. John McCarthur. That didn't sound very Middle Earth-y at all. He squinted at the hurriedly scribed writing. The page from the writing Gandalf was searching through spoke of a Great War, of a Last Alliance between Elves and Men. Isildur, a grand king as far as Patrick could gather, had befriended this McCarthur, a man he fondly described as a 'brave wanderer,' who had arrived from an unknown land called the 'Americans' and had quickly become a firm friend of the kings'. He had described a war of worldly proportions in his own lands against the Germanic lands. He had died bravely in the battle beside soldiers and elves who had in the end considered him a friend.

He saved the page and went to look amongst the books for records of another great war. He found a translation of writing depicting the Kinslayings in the First Age. While not much was known, a small footnote spoke of a 'brave wanderer,' a Maximus from a Romani tribe who had fought and died valiantly. Patrick had watched Gladiator enough times to recognise that name. In a more detailed depiction of the civil war in Gondor- the Kin- strife, Patrick found another reference to a 'brave wanderer,' in a Daniel Garcia who had spoke of a secondary Great War in his lands, again against a Germanic tribe with a despotic ruler who showed no mercy. Patrick began to see a theme in that Garcia again fought and died valiantly.

Patrick showed his findings to Gandalf, who nodded solemnly. "It is as I feared. Your coming signifies grand happenings… and not all good. Your fate, it appears, is tied with the ring, and the ring is tied with the fate of the world." _No pressure_ , Patrick thought to himself, a million thoughts flying through his head. Did this mean he was never getting home? Did this mean he had to save the world? Did this mean he was probably going to die here?

"We must return to the Shire. I fear Frodo may already be in danger. Then head for Rivendell; it may be the only place left truly safe on Middle Earth, and I imagine further answers will be found there if the Last Alliance holds some evidence." Patrick breathed a sigh and rubbed his throbbing temples. He was about ready to run away and scream into the sky for the test to end, he didn't care if he failed to get into Mission Impossible Force, this was all getting too real and weird.

"I need a pint."

…

The journey back was quiet and full of thoughts. Patrick and Gandalf said little to each other, quietly eating, quietly resting, their minds muddled with thought and plans. He clung onto a faint line of hope something might happen at this Rivendell place, that someone might lead him home or give him some purpose. He thought of this ring and the apparent darkness it held, preferring to imagine it like a nuclear weapon, a tiny portable nuclear weapon trying to get back to his master. Gandalf mentioned leaving when they got to the Shire to meet with the head of his Wizard Order. Patrick imagined Gandalf meeting up with Dumbledore and that cheered him up for a little while. But that meant he was tasked with attempting to lead Frodo to Bree to meet up with Gandalf. The responsibility made Patrick shudder. He could barely keep himself alive, let alone this innocent little tiny person carrying a nuclear bomb. As they approached the cosy, welcoming Shire, the sun was beginning to set and Patrick felt pity at the thought that Frodo's life would probably never be the same again. At least they could relate on that point.

* * *

In response to an anon review on the third chapter:

Just to clear up if there is any confusion, as mentioned in the first chapter I wanted to make the fic a mix of both book and film, both to discuss more events and also for ease. As a result- and as I feel it is portrayed in the films- I didn't want the gap between Bilbo's birthday and the Fellowship to be 17 years as it is in the book. I have done some research in forum threads (see link below) to see how viable this would be to fans. Some suggest that Frodo's departure from the Shire could be the same year as Bilbo's birthday, but not specifically mentioned. As a result, I decided to make my own timeline more concise to hopefully make it a more interesting read. The two characters are indeed in the same time frame. Hope this helps, and thanks for the comment!

questions/79516/timeline-of-peter-jacksons-tolkien-movies


	5. Next Big Boy Band

**Allie**

The next few days were much of the same. Lots of walking through lots of trees. It was starting to wear Allie out and it was evident Boromir was drained of most energy but was too proud to show it. They were beginning to struggle to find much food, meaning they didn't sleep as well or walk as far. Yet, Boromir still willingly showed Allie some of the basics of using a sword. She could tell he was an experienced and powerful fighter as he first showed her basic stances, then moved onto more defensive moves. They would take turns with his sword and shield, Allie learning first how to block a manoeuvre then how to perform it. Her competitive nature was fuelled by every approving nod and frustrated bark he gave. He claimed he would show her more when they got to Rivendell and could both have a sword and spar together, reminding Allie of her ultimate goal, which easily became forgotten in the days of walking.

One night she saw Boromir wince as he sat down by the fire and rub his tired face, and she had swallowed her pride and claimed she was too tired to practice tonight, requesting they rest. He nodded a tired thanks as she gave him the bigger portion of vegetable stew they had cooked up (wild carrots they had found and a stock cube Allie had in her pack.) Allie watched him eat under the light of the moon and considered him for a second. He had a strong face, but his tiredness made him appear younger somewhat in its vulnerability. She wondered what he was like as a child. Energetic, she imagined, and most likely troublesome.

"What is your father like? You've mentioned your mother and brother with great affection but rarely your father. He is the Steward, right?" A sadness entered his eyes and Allie regretted inquiring about a subject which so obviously pained him.

"My father was- is a proud man. He was a good ruler and a good father to me. Not so much to Faramir. The death of our mother deeply affected him. Time has not healed the wounds, only deepened them. Paranoia and power fuels him and the unceasing threat of Mordor is ever in his sights, he is... a proud man." Allie merely nodded in understanding, feeling like the topic was one to end there, and quickly.

"I must admit, I am surprised you're so open to talking with me. A possible spy, en route to meet some very important people, I know a lot of deep things about you now." She wiggled her eyebrows, attempting to gauge a reaction. A small smirk fluttered across Boromir's goateed mouth (she had recently discovered he had a sharp knife to trim his hair and it had been a moment of great interest watching him professionally groom without a mirror.)

"Well, if you are indeed a vision guiding me to Rivendell as I first suspected, you shall disappear along with my words. Otherwise, I have other means of silencing you." He patted his sword attached to his belt and quickly chuckled at Allie's expression, unsure whether he was joking or not.

One morning a fair few days later, a noticeably thinner Allie and Boromir awoke to resume their usual routine. As they gathered their belongings and resumed their tired trudging, Allie cheered,

"Congratulations, if my calculations are correct, and if you can count properly, this is officially your one hundred and tenth day of travelling. Have an apple to celebrate." She threw him over a fruit she had saved in her bag for such an occasion. Boromir smiled his thanks, as he had when she celebrated his 100th day in the same way.

"By all accounts, this chould also be the day we pass through the gates of Rivendell. We've made good time." Allie closed her eyes and daydreams of the Rivendell Boromir had described, of actual beds, Elves (still questionable) as graceful and polite as anyone on this earth, some of the most pleasant wine that didn't come from Gondor (she suspected Boromir was quite biased on this aspect) and hopefully, she wished with every fibre of her being, some sort of answers. The thought made both of them start to pace a little quicker and they made good time that morning. By the time they reached the top of the most recent hill, the mid-day sun was beating down on them and on the sight that faced them. Over the crest of the hill was quite a sight, to say the least. Golden buildings and golden trees, a golden river and golden waterfalls. Everything was vibrant and other worldly. After weeks of nature, the sight of bricks and windows made Allie laugh with joy.

"Welcome to Rivendell." The sight almost made her want to believe in elves instantly; no human could have possibly made such a spectacle. They proceeded to walk down the hill towards the gates, Allie surprisingly slightly saddened at the thought this might be one of her last few days with her new companion.

 **Patrick**

Patrick laid on the grass watching the stars, chewing on a protein bar as Gandalf had ambushed Frodo in his house to tell him of his fate, and the fate of his ring. He heard some crashing and some packing and wondered if Frodo would find it weird Patrick calling him his new best friend considering he was probably the only person who he knew on this earth besides Gandalf (and he was more of a grandpa figure than a friend.) He was busy feeling sorry for himself at the thought of no one ever getting his references or finishing his songs again, and at the thought of never finding out what happened on the second season of Westworld, when Gandalf strode out the door followed by Frodo and… Sam?!

"Come along, Patrick. We have gained another trusty companion. Keep each other safe, all of you. Frodo, never put the ring on. Remember, wait for me at the Prancing Pony." With that, Gandalf the Grey was off. He didn't seem the type to explain things with much detail. And now, it appeared, he had left Patrick to guide their little group to a place he'd only been to once for a reason he wasn't quite sure of. It was a good job he was such a cool, calm, collected guy usually, or he'd definitely have had a panic attack right there and then. (That was a lie. That was just a cover, he wasn't really a calm guy, he thought as he started to panic.)

Patrick felt the weight of responsibility weighing down on his shoulders as he wondered how to proceed- should he just run away? Tell them it was off and get everyone inside to have a nice calming cup of tea? CRY?- until Frodo murmured a single sentence, voice cracking slightly,

"Well, we best be going then."

They strolled through cornfields and woods as the autumnal sun began shining through orange leaves, Patrick half leading the way with Frodo's encouragement. If Patrick wasn't feeling a constant sense of dread, he'd be having quite a pleasant time. The innocent chatter of Sam and the warm responses of Frodo brightened his mood slightly as he chuckled and spoke of friends and happy memories. Sam was particularly fond of Patrick's stories about his home land of Ireland and their love for potatoes.

Frodo was in the middle of a particularly funny story, about the time Pippin got himself stuck in a barrel trying to sneak the last of the Longbottom Leaf at a party and they had spent the night rolling him down hills, when the Hobbit himself burst from the cornfield to the left of them. Merry followed close behind and the four Hobbits crashed to the floor in a heap.

"Hello Frodo! What are the chances?" Merry exclaimed cheerfully, gathering his dropped vegetables from the floor, dusting off a particularly large carrot. Sam gasped,

"You've been into Farmer Maggot's crop!" As if on queue, a yelling voice and swinging pitchfork started to rush towards them through the crops. The hobbits set of with surprising haste and Patrick followed suit, dodging roots and trees as they rushed through the forest. The hobbits disappeared, and Patrick looked down a steep bank to see them bundled on the floor, a mess of short limbs and broken vegetables. Patrick slid down the hill after them, chuckling as he pulled them all to their feet and they dusted themselves off.

"So I'm supposed to look after all four of you now? Though I guess that's technically only like two normal sized people," he pondered, considering the implications of taking the two hobbits home to safety, or what Gandalf would say if all five of them waltzed into the Prancing Pony like the next big boy band.

Patrick's words were interrupted by the feeling of a cold rush into his chest as Frodo shouted for them to get off the road. A screech shattered the air and Patrick's instincts kicked in as he pushed the four hobbits underneath an overhanging tree root, laying over them and holding his breath. His hand instinctively went towards his gun as he heard heavy footfall behind the tree. He risked a peek through the roots and saw a dark hooded figure, breathing heavily and almost floating towards them. Fear consumed Patrick. This was nothing like the enemies he'd faced before. They were usually just as scared as him, or pathetic enough to feel anger towards or even indifference. This… thing was fear personified. Darkness consumed all Patrick's senses as he closed his eyes and wished he was back in Cork, back in his bed with his sisters chatting and giggling in their adjoining rooms.

A noise pulled him back to reality as a bag of vegetables was thrown into the distance and they made a dash for it.

"What _was_ that?" Merry asked for everyone. Nobody said anything, each knowing the feeling the other had just experienced. Patrick subconsciously clicked the safety off his gun as they continued on their way, significantly more subdued.

"I have to leave the Shire. We must get to Bree." Frodo said simply. Merry nodded and motioned for them to follow him. Patrick definitely didn't feel like the Hobbit bodyguard, he felt like someone who wanted his mother.

…

The Prancing Pony was a welcome, familiar sight for Patrick. The group were drenched from the rain and tired both physically and mentally. They all agreed that food and an alcoholic beverage was much needed. Butterbur was racing around the bar, as was usual for the busy innkeeper.

"Good evening little masters! And not so little master! Will it be a room for the night? We've got some nice, cosy, hobbit sized rooms available." Next to Patrick, Pippin nodded eagerly at the thought of sleep.

"We're friends of Gandalf the Grey. Can you tell him we've arrived?" Frodo asked as Butterbur looked at Patrick with a hint of recognition as he struggled to remember the Wizard.

"Haven't seen him in weeks. Last time I did he was with you, if my memory serves me rightly." He nodded in the direction of Patrick, as all their hearts sunk. Gandalf should be here by now. Surely, he wouldn't be late for a meeting of such importance? Patrick started to worry again. Gandalf was the only one who he'd met who he thought had any hope of helping him with his situation. Sure, the hobbits were nice, but it's not like any of them could create a magic portal to get him back home; he still held onto the hope Gandalf would magic him home one day.

They sat in the bar, life going on as normal for all the people around them. Drunken, dirty men laughed and jeered, some eyed the unusual group with suspicion. Patrick recalled the last time he'd been in a pub brawl, Allie had punched a guy for him. He didn't hold high hopes for their chances in this possible future scenario. It would definitely be best if they kept to themselves. They ate their pub meals slowly, Patrick noting Allie would probably approve of the gravy they had here, nice and thick just as she insisted it should be. Merry appeared from the crowd with a gleeful face, holding a pint like a badge of honour. Pippin stared at it in awe and instantly rushed to get one.

"You guys have never seen a pint before?! Oh that's nothing, where I'm from we have these things called steins. A drink as tall as you guys. They're from this place called Germany where you basically have places and events just for dancing on long tables and drinking litres of beer." Their eyes filled with awe as they agreed that was probably an occasion they should start up at the Shire. Patrick started to daydream about Bierkellers and ladies in lederhosen, when he heard an almighty crash. Looking toward the commotion, he saw Pippin looking at the floor with shock as Frodo fell through the air, then just disappeared. Patrick cursed himself for getting distracted on the job and rushed towards the clearing created by shocked bar goers. One of the many long haired, dirty men shoulder barged him aside as he was about to fumble around the empty air to try and grab Frodo.

"Who do you think you are?" he looked at the man who had fire in his eyes, holding a now reappeared Frodo by the scruff of his neck. Patrick instantly regretted the confidence in his tone.

"You draw far too much attention to yourselves. Upstairs." The man oozed authority, and Patrick was a sucker for following orders- it meant less responsibility for anything going wrong. Like the good little soldier he was, he ushered the rest of the Hobbits after the man tossing Frodo upstairs. He tried not to look at the many pairs of eyes staring at the group.

…

"You can no longer wait for the wizard. They're coming." Patrick had many questions. Who was he? Who were they? What were they? What was going on? This 'Strider' character knew suspiciously lots about what he called 'Nazgul;' the terrifying things that scared the living hell out of Patrick. What if he was a bad guy? Was this the first test of Patrick's to ensure he's brave enough to join _Impossible Missions Force_?

"How do we know this Strider is a friend of Gandalf's?" Merry voiced what they were all thinking. "Where will he take us?"

"To Rivendell, The House of Elrond." Well, that was where Gandalf mentioned Patrick should go and he wasn't looking forward to the prospect of trying to wing it in this foreign land by himself. This Strider guy had an air of authority about him, and Patrick decided to trust his instincts.

"I am Patrick, a friend of Gandalf's. Well… Gandalf was helping me with a little problem… anyway, he asked me to help these chaps wherever they end up. I'll follow you if you'll take me." Strider nodded, a hint of curiosity in his eyes. They agreed to stay the night and make for Rivendell before the sun began to rise. The Hobbits settled into their beds, and Patrick took a seat next to the Strider, who stared into the fire whilst puffing on his pipe. The motion reminded Patrick of Gandalf, and he was instantly worried about the wizard.

"Do you know what might have happened to Gandalf?" The man contemplated for a minute, then slightly shook his head.

"Whatever it is, that wizard has dealt with much worse before, I'm sure. I'm not surprised such a mysterious person as yourself has managed to find your way to his side. What is your story?" Patrick wondered how much he should share, before thinking if Gandalf trusts this guy he probably could too, and told him everything. From waking up, to his findings in Minas Tirith, to a short recap of his position before ending up here. Strider's face was unmoving throughout, and after Patrick finished his story and breathed a sigh of relief, he simply continued puffing on his pipe.

"That is indeed a peculiar story, almost peculiar enough to be believable. You carry yourself in a strange manner, there is a foreign air about you different even to those from the depths of the strangest lands in Middle Earth. The thing you carry is certainly unusual for this world and may bring unwanted attention." Patrick had tried to hide his gun under his cloak but was aware in times of stress he'd probably unknowingly reach for it. He explained how it worked, suddenly conscious of the man's rather large sword by his side and held it out for him to observe with fascination.

"It might be worth you practice with a more… familiar weapon if you are fated to stay in Middle Earth a while. That weapon could garner unwanted attention and we wouldn't want it landing in the wrong hands." Patrick gulped at the thought of one of those creepy Nazgul guys with a gun, chasing after him on his equally as creepy horse.

That morning they ate a quick breakfast in the dark and hastily disappeared onto an old trodden path leading into the wilderness. Patrick mourned the last time he'd been in the Prancing Pony and the delicious cooked breakfast he'd enjoyed. They walked hastily through woods and fields and marshlands, following the long strides of the long-haired man, Patrick keeping guard at the rear.

…

After weeks of walking and moaning and playing 'who can slap the most mosquitoes off themselves,' they reached a looming hill, upon which stood a ruined structure.

"This was the great watchtower of Amon Sul. We shall rest here tonight." Patrick breathed a sigh of relief; he was getting a bit sick of all the walking. Everyone settled down on rocks and rubbed their weary feet. Strider opened a bundle and handed out four conveniently hobbit sized swords, for 'safety' as he went to look around. He gave Patrick one of his own swords, and Patrick raised an eyebrow at him.

"It might be safer to keep our secrecy for the time being." Patrick got the hint and hid his gun behind his pack, before settling in front of it to keep guard of the Hobbits as the already dreary sun set beneath the hills.

Patrick woke to the smell of cooking bacon and sausage… he really loved staying at the Prancing Pony… but he wasn't at the Prancing Pony?! He shot up from his nap with a start as Frodo cried out, desperately trying to put out the fire Sam, Merry and Pippin had created. Patrick cursed himself; he really needed to stop napping at crucial moments of his bodyguard duties. A cry pierced the darkness and the familiar feeling of dread filled Patrick from limb to limb. It took everything in him not to reach for his gun and he felt frustratingly naked holding a sword in front of him, as he ushered the Hobbits behind him and looked into the darkness. No less than five Nazguls stepped out of the darkness, mist shrouding their armour cladded bodies.

Patrick muttered an entire months' worth of profanities as he gripped the sword handle- hilt?- why was he worrying about this right now?- as hard as he could.

* * *

Thank you for all the lovely reviews, they are much appreciated! It's nice to see people are enjoying it!

(Might post two chapters today seen as I feel this isn't the most filling of chapters and it's my birthday next week so might be a bit busy...)

In response to Passerby's anonymous review, the idea was supposed to be that other people in history may have appeared in Middle Earth as my characters had, not necessarily other fan fictions, just in this version of the universe in my fic.

In addition, I still found the tree quite impressive in the film, and I tried to give the impression my character Patrick might not have seen many scenes similar to the courtyard with the dead tree and backdrop of the citadel much in his life. Thanks for the review again though, even though it doesn't feel like you're really enjoying reading it! As I said this is my first attempt at a fic so apologies if it isn't to your liking or isn't 100% accurate!


	6. Guess Who

**Patrick**

Patrick's sword clashed with the Nazgul's and broke in half.

"Well shit," he muttered as he was swiftly thrown aside by the horrifying cloaked figure. The wind was knocked out of him as his back cracked against a stone pillar. He watched through hazy eyes as Frodo drew his dagger and looked to the faceless _thing_ with both courage and fear. Patrick slowly rose from the floor and attempted to rush at them with his broken blade as Frodo disappeared. The Nazgul dispersed into dark masses of smoke as a piercing cry echoed around the night sky.

Out of nowhere Strider leaped past Patrick, brandishing flames at the screeching Nazgul. Patrick and the hobbits rushed towards a screaming Frodo, who had removed his ring and was grabbing at a freshly bleeding hole in his shoulder. Patrick reverted to combat mode, muttering words of encouragement to Frodo as he attempted to plug the wound and stop the bleeding with some cloth ripped from his cloak.

"Strider! Help!" Sam cried as he drove the Nazguls into the night then rushed to Frodo and removed Patrick's bloody hands from the wound.

"He has been stabbed by a Morgul blade. He needs elvish medicine." Frodo had started muttering incoherently, his eyes fluttering and face paling. Patrick used his canteen to pour water onto the wound and hurriedly found some bandage from his pack.

"Will this help?" Strider nodded curtly as he mumbled some foreign language whilst dressing the wound. He added some plants from his pack into the hole and quickly plugged it with Patrick's dressing as Frodo again cried out in agony. He then harshly lifted Frodo onto his back.

"Our only chance is to get to Rivendell in time. We must travel fast. It is six days walk from here." The hobbits were quiet with worry as they all hurriedly packed their items away. Patrick carried most of the bags as they followed after Strider, any thoughts of sleeping well out of mind as the thought of the Nazgul on their trail consumed them all.

For days they hurried along in silence, all too tired to do much more than stumble along the paths, tripping over any root their feet could find. They ate hurriedly without fire and only dared a few hours of guarded sleep before setting off again. They all heard the screeches of the Nazgul; whether it was in their minds or in the air, they weren't sure. Frodo's eyes grew dark and his mutterings grew foreign. Patrick attempted to comfort Sam and the others who looked sick with worry for their friend.

In the evening of a day no one had kept track of, a strange light appeared from through the trees in front of them as they rested, Strider dabbing Frodo's greying face with a cloth.

"Nazgul?!" Pippin whimpered in fear, but Patrick could already tell it was something different. He didn't feel the instant dread drain his body of warmth. Instead he felt a hint of hope. The light shone brighter until it was impossible to look straight at, and out of the light strode the most beautiful creature Patrick had ever seen. The man had flowing blonde hair, a strong face and wisdom radiating from his eyes.

"Glorfindel," Strider gasped.

Patrick felt enchanted by the man as he crouched next to Frodo, hands placed on the wound. He spoke the same foreign language they had heard from Strider and Frodo gave a small gasp. "Elrond sent us to search for you. He is fading. I doubt he will last. We must get him to Rivendell." The man's voice was powerful yet soft; Patrick now understood why Sam spoke so fondly of the Elves.

"The Nazgul are on our heels. You take him, we will attempt to keep them at bay. We have seen only five so far." Glorfindel nodded and effortlessly lifted Frodo onto his horse- probably the most magnificent horse Patrick had ever seen.

"Noro lim, Asfaloth!" Glorfindel urged on the horse who took off with breath-taking speed. The hobbits looked at the disappearing trio with despair, wondering what would become of their friend. Patrick looked at Strider, who suddenly appeared very tired in the light of the moon.

"I guess we better be going then," Patrick broke the silence, picking up various packs and hoisting them onto his back. The group nodded in agreement and set off in the direction of the horse and its' riders. As they hurriedly stumbled through the forest, Patrick wondered what Strider meant when he said they'd ' _only seen five so far._ '

…

Despite Patrick's fears over Strider's ominous words, as they walked they heard- or felt- no indication of Nazgul presence. Strider suggested this was more worrying than a relief, as no Nazgul chasing them meant they would be hot on the heels of Frodo. They didn't stop to eat or rest, powering on through tiredness and eating all they could as they walked. Sam aimed question after question at Strider,

"Where are they taking him? Will he be alright? He won't die will he, Mr. Strider?" The man was comforting but realistic in equal measures. They walked through the night, Strider explaining they should be at Rivendell by morning. Patrick began to daydream of beds and meals on plates, and as they reached the edge of the tree line as the sun rose through the leaves, they came upon an incredible sight.

"Rivendell." Sam said, the hint of relief in his voice mirrored by the expressions on the group's faces. A grand river in front of them told a tale of mayhem they must have just missed. Black robes were strewn on the banks and dragged down the river, and their side of the embankment was ripped to shreds with grass and mud scattered everywhere. There looked to have been a lot more than five of those things.

"The power of the elves appears to have aided Frodo. For now. Let us make haste, they will be awaiting our arrival." Patrick gave a small sigh and raised his eyebrows at Strider's pessimism; the hobbits small look of hope had turned straight back to worry in a sentence.

"He's in the best place he can be, I'm sure… and look on the bright side, he'll be in an actual bed, eating actual food, getting voodoo elf magic pumped into him!" Patrick attempted to appeal to the hobbit's interests. They did perk up slightly at the promise of food.

They walked up to a set of tall gates which slowly opened upon their arrival, (Patrick wondered if they'd invented some sort of medieval automatic door) to a sight the whole group- even Strider- was surprised and most relieved to see.

"Gandalf!" They exclaimed in delight and rushed towards the wizard, who gave a tired but kind smile in return.

"Welcome my friends, to Rivendell. I'm sure you have many questions and are eager to see Frodo," he gave a sympathetic look towards an impatient Sam, "he is in good hands, but is also in a dangerous place. Lord Elrond is using all his powers to try and heal him." Patrick imagined a pointy eared man doing shaman-esque dances around Frodo's body, throwing potions into green fire.

"What happened to you, Gandalf?"

"Will he die, master Gandalf?"

"Is it time for food, Gandalf?"

At the sound that Frodo was in safe hands, Pippin's thoughts had again reverted to food. The wizard chuckled at the hobbits, impressed at their strong spirits despite the ordeal they'd been through. He directed them to two elves, (Patrick staring at their magnificent faces in awe) who would show them to their rooms and more importantly, to the hall where they could eat. Patrick was ready to follow when Gandalf stopped him in his tracks,

"I know you will be eager to talk with Lord Elrond after our recent discoveries. He was a crucial part of the Alliance of Elves and Men. When Frodo is in a stable condition, we can discuss the matter of your arrival here." Patrick nodded in understanding,

"I can wait. Frodo needs to get better first. And I need to get some food inside this hungry tum of mine. It's good to see you again Gandalf, wherever you ended up." He wanted to ask him further about where he disappeared off to, but hunger was making him say silly things only Allie would understand, and he could see Strider and Gandalf wanted to have a grown-up conversation. He raced off to catch up to the hobbits and share their delight in laying on a bed and eating their body weight in food. He hoped the Elves ate something substantial and not just fancy but tiny Michelin star portions. They'd definitely judge him if he invented the first burger in Middle Earth. He gave a small gasp at the thought they might not have burgers. Or chips. Or _chocolate_. That would be enough to make Allie want to die if she were here.

…

For two days, Patrick and the hobbits feasted and bathed and slept and chilled to their hearts' content. Frodo was still not allowed to be seen, so Patrick attempted to distract them by exploring Rivendell. They watched the Elves play their magnificent music during meal times, to Sam's delight, they strolled around the magnificent gardens and explored the impressive waterfalls, to Merry's delight, and sampled their finest cakes and desserts on secret trips to the kitchen, to Pippin's delight. Patrick had the odd formal conversation with an interested Glorfindel and Aragorn about the workings of the army back at home, but those left him with a pit of worry in his stomach which could only be quelled with hobbit excitement. They were eager to hear of the different divisions and their roles, from light infantry to gunners, to technical and strategic ops. They grew confused as to why the countries fought each other and how there weren't usually mass battles anymore; more stealth operations and political and economic warfare. It was all very foreign to them, and it just made Patrick miss home.

On the third day, after attempting to teach the Hobbits the game of football with a rock all morning, ('no Pippin, you're shooting that way!' 'you can't tackle like that Merry, yellow card!' 'What's a yellow card? How am I supposed to get this _ball_ otherwise?') they agreed to postpone until after food. They gathered some meat and vegetables- Sam grabbing an extra plateful to take for Frodo after they'd eaten, just in case he'd woken up- and took their seats at a bench by the side of the fireplace. As Patrick tucked into a rather large piece of carrot, absentmindedly gazing around the hall as Merry and Pippin bickered over whether Elvish wine was better than Hobbiton beer, (they both thought it wasn't, yet they both somehow were still bickering) he thought he saw a familiar face sat next to a rather large bearded man. The person had Allie's hair, Allie's face, Allie's army standard khaki t-shirt... very strange thing to be wearing in Rivendell… he shook his head slightly and dismissed the thought to just missing her and probably daydreaming. He tucked into another carrot as the person smiled. It was a weird smile, too much to the left with one eye crinkling and no teeth. Allie has always said she hated her smile, Patrick had found it hilarious and wanted to see it every day.

It couldn't be. But it had to be at the same time. It definitely was. To the shock and surprise of the hobbits around him, Patrick sprayed his carrot over the table as he leaped up and over the bench. He ran towards his friend- who couldn't possibly be here, it would be much too weird- not realising he was shouting her name with a mixture of glee and relief as he neared the table,

"Allie?! Allie! AllieeeeEEE!"

He noticed the man opposite her give a look of confusion as she turned around and received a swift rugby tackle to the floor.

 **Allie**

As they made their way towards the gates, they opened slowly as if ready for their arrival.

"Greetings, Lord Boromir and guest. Welcome to Rivendell, your journey must have been long and tiresome. I will take you to your rooms and you may rest and wash if you wish." Allie hadn't listened to any of what the man was saying as he greeted them, too busy staring at what must have been the most beautiful creature she had ever seen. He had long, flowing blonde hair, his eyes were as blue as the sea and his skin actually glowed. Looking into the courtyard beyond the gates, everyone in this place seemed other worldly levels of beautiful. She was instantly very aware of her grubby face and greasy hair. Then scalded herself for worrying about such things when she had more important matters to worry about.

"Excuse me, my name is Allie from the land of… York-shire. I have come to Rivendell to seek council about my quite… peculiar situation." The man gave her a knowing smile and nodded his head in a slow, purposeful manner. Could he read the future? Were they expecting her? Did they have the portal ready to send her straight home and apologise for the mishap with their inter-dimensional experiments?

"Lord Elrond and Gandalf the Grey are ready to speak with you. But first, you must eat! You look weary and it is near dinner time." He motioned them towards the towering buildings placed next to a gushing waterfall. Allie didn't know what was more beautiful, the place or the people. If she hadn't believed in Elves before she certainly did now. They were led through sun lit corridors, past grand halls and endless amounts of beautiful people going about their business. They stopped at a corridor Allie knew she would definitely get lost trying to find, and a door was opened onto a sight which made her want to cry.

"My old friend… bed." She sighed and instantly wanted to collapse onto it. Boromir was ushered to a room a few doors down and they agreed to meet each other in an hour or so to go and get some food. Allie shut the big wooden door behind her after waving goodbye to Boromir, worrying he had become a bit quiet since they arrived, then dismissing it to just him being tired or concerned about what he would learn here. Allie could feel nerves bubble up in her stomach at what she might discover, fully expecting to be told they had no idea who she was and why she was here and that she was doomed to wander random streets forever all alone. She wondered if Boromir liked her enough to let her crash with him for a bit, before sniggering at the thought of a noble Steward's son bringing home some random lady to stay the night. Her thoughts washed from her worried mind when she saw her second favourite sight of the day; a hot, bubbly bath tub just screaming for her to jump into. She tried to imagine anyone at home being this welcoming to random strangers as she peeled off her dirty pants with relief and slipped straight into the scalding water. She shuddered with pleasure and instantly dunked her head straight under, scrubbing her significantly skinnier body with a brush and some soap.

After laying in the bath until her fingers pruned up, Allie tiredly rose out of the tub and into a towel. She noticed a simple, green dress placed suggestively on a side table and considered for a moment. Her belief in adhering to social expectations screamed at her to wear it, to thanks the elves for tending to her in such a way and to not stand out. Her tired, normal side didn't want to wear a dress whilst trying to talk professionally to a man of power who might be able to get her home. She opted for an army issued t-shirt, her trousers which she attempted to beat 3 months of dirt off and her hair pushed back into a loose bun. Professional, but not uptight, she thought to herself. She hid her belongings under her bed from any possible prying eyes and began to wonder whether she had time to have a quick power nap, when a strong knock on her door echoed around the room. She opened it to find a decidedly less rugged, cleaner looking Boromir.

"Would you look at that, it turns out you're not made of dirt after all! How are you feeling?" He gave a small, tired smile which didn't quite reach his eyes and motioned for Allie to follow him.

"I am well, if not apprehensive to learn our fates. I hope you find what you are looking for here. Please know, whatever should happen, you are always welcome in Minas Tirith." Allie looked up at Boromir gratefully as he looked up at the clear sky above them. He had led them to a courtyard of well tended grass, flowers and trees whose leaves were turning shades of orange and red. Allie realised it must be nearing winter by now and her mind took her back to Septembers spent walking with her dad and her dog, watching the sheep grazing and running from little evil Shetland ponies.

"If this does end up being goodbye, if I do get home, I just want to say thank you for everything. Thank you for bringing me with you and for sharing your food and for not killing me in my sleep." Boromir's mouth widened into a smile and Allie realised how intensely grey his eyes were. They looked like the stormy sea her friends would dare themselves to run into on their winter trips to Scarborough. "Speaking of food…" she mumbled as her belly grumbled, and as if on cue the next corner they turned took them into a grand hall. Rows of benches filled the stone floor, tapestries were draped along the walls and a large fire lay ready to be burned on the far side of the room. Allie followed the smell of food and within five minutes they were tucking into filling but light plates of meat and vegetables. Not quite a Sunday roast with Yorkshire puddings, but after weeks of dried fruit and bread, it was a feast fit for a king.

"These Elves are quite a sight, aren't they? They don't have an imperfection between them. Maybe you weren't fibbing after all when you mentioned cave trolls and dragons." She spoke conversationally in between mouthfuls of chicken and green beans.

"Imperfections can be what make a person unique. Elves are indeed magical creatures, but I do wonder how a people can live in such seclusion for eternity. Minimal interaction with other races, minimal sharing of knowledge. There was a time when Elves and men fought side by side, now there is only mistrust."

"Maybe this Council… thing can see that happen again. If things are as serious as your dream sounds, it might need a united effo-" Allie was interrupted by what she could swear was someone shouting her name from across the hall. Her eyebrows furrowed in confusion as she spun around to see someone running towards her. Someone very ginger. Someone she knew.

"Patrick?! What the hell?!"

Allie was tackled to the ground.

* * *

Sooooooo I was bored and slightly tipsy during lockdown and I discovered 5 more chapters I'd done of this and just never dared posted because they're probably rubbish but OH well if you can't post during a worldwide quarantine when can you?! So have chapters 6/7/8 and 9! It means I'll be tempted to write more now... and maybe a PotC one because who doesn't love James Norrington...

Hope everyone is doing ok/staying safe/staying occupied during this completely bizzare situation!


	7. Bag Inventory

"What's going on?!"

"I can't believe you're here!"

"I can't believe _you're_ here!"

"How are you here?!"

"How are _we_ here?!"

They had sat on the bench opposite a bewildered Boromir, grins splashed across their faces. People had returned to their own conversations after the mild interruption. The hobbits peered over from the other side of the hall with intrigue.

"Where are my manners! Patrick, this is Lord Boromir. Without him I'd probably be dead in the wilderness somewhere. Boromir, this is the Patrick I've been telling you all about!" Patrick bowed his head and Boromir slowly returned it, Allie impressed at Patrick's politeness- had this place taught him some manners? "What happened to you Patrick? I've been told I'm going to speak to this Lord Elrond and Gandalf-"

"Gandalf the Grey! He's who I've been with. We've been all over the place and found this archive with these stories and I fought a monster with this sword and went to a party-" Patrick took a deep breath, knowing he was rambling, "have you seen anyone else? Is Lukas here too? Is the gang back together on a grand adventure?"

Allie's breath stopped in her throat. She'd considered this moment for a long time. Would Patrick benefit from discovering he'd lost a friend as soon as he'd found one? Would it distract him from trying to keep himself alive? As far as he was concerned, Lukas could be back at home with his wife, grieving us. But safe.

"I haven't seen him, no." Boromir's head turned to give her a confused look and she sent him a pleading one in return. She could explain later. "Anyway!" She exclaimed, rapping on the table and plastering a smile on her face, "I imagine we have a lot to catch up on! Boromir, I'll see you later, if that's okay? Patrick here needs to tell me what trouble he's got himself into recently." She noticed he didn't return her smile and his eyebrows were set into a frown as she gave him a mock salute and they left the hall to find somewhere to catch up.

They found themselves in the courtyard Allie had passed through on her way to getting food and spoke into the night, Patrick telling her all about the party;

"You went to a party?! Even though you had no idea where you were or what was happening?" Allie had been shocked.

"When in doubt, party" Patrick had winked. Allie had tutted his unprofessionalism, but was also completely unsurprised. He told her of his trip to Minas Tirith;

"Boromir's from Minas Tirith! His dad is the Steward of Gondor, bit of a trick guy apparently." Patrick nodded in agreement, relishing in Allie doing her old 'interrupting-his-story-with-extra-bits-of-information' thing she always did when excited.

"Anyway, we found all these stories about men from World Wars- from our world, Allie, who appeared over here and fought and died valiantly helping people out. They called them 'brave wanderers.'" Allie frowned and considered what he was saying,

"Well if that's the case, why us? Why now? It's not like we're elite SAS assassins or anything, we're nothing special." Patrick shrugged and they both hoped speaking with Elrond and Gandalf would solve everything. If they were to fight in someone else's war they were severely unprepared and under equipped- much like any war at home, Allie thought ironically. On that deep thought, they both agreed they should sleep and catch up further in the morning. Allie was ready to drop there and then; she had forgotten just this morning she was still on the road with Boromir. It would be weird not sleeping next to him and a fire on the hard forest floor.

She naturally had forgotten where the room she had been given was and so followed Patrick aimlessly in the hopes they had put all the random strangers of Rivendell in a wing together. Sure enough, they ended up in a corridor that looked vaguely familiar and Allie recognised a door one of the elves had welcomed her into.

"What about these elves then?"

Patrick gave a whistle, "I know right, some impressive specimens around here. Even the men. They're making me feel like some of these cave trolls they keep mentioning. Who knows though, maybe the ladies will like something a little different, a little ginger snap to pass the time." She laughed in surprise,

"Boromir told me about those too! I didn't believe him. Elves, sure, cave trolls? Harry Potter crap right there." They agreed they had a lot to catch up on and a lot of theories to discuss, ( _are you sure you've not been handed the old red and blue pill yet? What about anyone testing you for Mission Impossible Force?)_ before waving a tired goodbye and agreeing to meet in the morning. Allie instantly began to feel lonely as one of the two people she knew in this place closed the door and was gone. She wanted to check he hadn't disappeared. Instead, she found herself walking towards Boromir's door and gave it a tentative knock.

A dishevelled looking Boromir opened the door, eyes blinking with the light and one side of his hair tousled. Allie mentally kicked herself for not thinking what time it was.

"Hi… hello, sorry if I woke you, I didn't think of the time. I just thought I'd say night, you know, seen as I've said night for the past few months. It'll feel weird not waking up and putting out the fire and sharing breakfast. Actual pillows feel almost too comfy..." He gave a tired smile as she rambled off into silence, feeling frustratedly embarrassed with herself. She never felt embarrassed, usually because she always planned ahead and knew what to say. She was obviously just tired.

"I was struggling to sleep myself. Maybe a grassy patch outdoors would be more comfortable." She smiled with relief that he didn't seem too annoyed about her intrusion; "we can have breakfast tomorrow. The council has not been called yet; there may be another day for recovering our strength." She nodded and smiled gratefully, apologising again for interrupting and wishing him goodnight before walking towards her door. As she opened hers, she heard Boromir close his. As she lay down in her dreamy bed with dreamy pillows and a dreamy duvet, she felt quite alone. Even before Boromir, she'd slept within close proximity of her platoon. The room was dark and silent, and upon closing her eyes, visions of Lukas played through her mind.

…

Allie was woken from a strange dream involving Boromir leading her platoon of light armoured vehicles in a straight charge against a bunch of wargs. They were all in vehicles but only had bows and swords. The wargs had machine guns. Not the most thrilling of experiences. Excited knocks flurried her door and she shuffled forwards, wiping sleep from her eyes. She opened the door to two curly haired children. Except they weren't children; they had completely adult faces and extremely hairy feet.

"Miss. Allie? Patrick sent us to ask what was taking you so long!" The first little man exclaimed, giving a short bow. Patrick had briefly mentioned yesterday what she could only assume now were Hobbits. He spoke of them fondly, mentioning their optimism, innocence and love for food.

"Well it can't be that late can it? The sun is only just up and my stomach isn't rumbling yet! I assume I am being cordially introduced to Messrs Merry and Pippin?" They both nodded and grinned, noting they had already had one course of breakfast and Patrick had sent them to 'burn it off' and find her before the next. Whatever that meant, they had no clue. "Well little sirs, I shall be ready in just a moment. Save me a seat and you can tell me all about this grand adventure you've been taking Patrick on!" They nodded again and with another bow, trotted back off towards the smell of food. She felt she could get used to this formal speaking malarkey; you just had to say things like you were talking to an old person, and she had perfected the formal yet interested soldier act during veterans events.

As she removed her leggings, pretending to again not notice the dress which now hung suggestively off the wardrobe at the far side of the room, she considered all the interesting places she could visit if she were stuck here, like the Shire Patrick had mentioned. She'd always loved exploring and all the places she'd heard of so far would be different to anywhere she'd been before. The world was, more realistically than ever before, her oyster. Yet thoughts of travelling reminded her of her father. Until she knew there was categorically no chance of returning home, she would still hold onto the hope of seeing him again.

Leaving her room, she sniffed in a general easterly direction and followed what she thought was a vaguely familiar corridor to what she hoped was food and friends. She chuckled to herself, remembering her job before this was directing and map reading. The army really had no idea how to utilise their soldiers' strengths or acknowledge their weaknesses.

…

Allie was tucking into the biggest bowl of fruit she could carry and listening to the Hobbits tell her all about their journey from the Shire to Rivendell, when she saw Boromir walk into the hall behind them with another raggedy looking man.

"That's Strider, he's like Bear Grylls. Type of guy who fights like he could kill someone with just his little finger, but would also listen to your problems." Patrick waved the man over. He had wavy brown hair and deep, serious eyes. Shorter than Boromir in stature, he looked less stocky but more agile.

"Greetings, my friends," Aragorn directed his fond hello to the Hobbits and Patrick, "and greetings friend of Patrick…"

"Allie" Patrick whispered and Aragorn let a little smile escape his lips,

"Lady Allie. It is both a mystery and a pleasure to meet you. Patrick has spoken many fond words about you, I hope you find what you're looking for here." Allie remembered to bow her head and greet him in return, feeling slightly rude calling this man Strider. Surely, he had another name? Would that be rude to ask? She settled for 'Sir' for the time being. If all else failed, Sir was nice and formal. She gave a quick smile to Boromir, who returned it and sat opposite her.

"Fruit?" she offered, as Aragorn excused himself and went to speak to a particularly beautiful elf on a high table at the far end of the room. Boromir gratefully took an apple, "happy 111th day of travelling!" She exclaimed and Boromir gave the kind of laugh which came out of the nose- not so funny to deserve a mouth laugh, but funny enough to deserve recognition.

"So, Lord Boromir, where do you… hail from? What is _with_ the horn?" Allie grimaced as Patrick's attempts to be formal mixed with his Irish brogue. The hobbit's attention had been caught however, and their interest was kept throughout the morning by Boromir's tales of Gondor, the grand city of Minas Tirith and of his and Allie's trip here. According to Patrick, their race kept well hidden and comfortable in their little villages and houses under hills. Tales of dangerous exploits were foreign and rare in their history. Allie watched as Boromir excitedly shared stories of his home and his men, Merry and Pippin shot him question after question and Patrick added quip after quip which probably Allie only understood. For a moment, it felt like she was back with her platoon on some downtime during their tour. They were interrupted by a third, extremely joyous looking Hobbit sprint up to their table.

"Frodo's awake! Master Frodo's awake!" The hobbits and Patrick shot up in excitement, Allie finding amusement in Patrick looking both like a babysitter and part of the strangest boyband ever all in one.

"Come on Allie! You need to meet Frodo, what a legend! He's the one I told you about, the one who got stabbed and always disappears!" Patrick's excitement was infectious, and Allie gave Boromir an eyeroll before waving goodbye and following the crowd through more corridors and passageways.

They found themselves in the doorway of a well-lit room, with white tapestries covering the walls and two men standing at the foot of a bed filled by a tired but relieved looking Hobbit. His eyes were droopy and slightly dull, the kind of eyes a soldier who'd spent a bit too long away from home would get. He looked fondly over to his friends and Allie suddenly felt as if she were intruding on a very personal moment. She stood back as the hobbits jumped eagerly onto Frodo's bed, hugging him and admiring his freshly bandaged, very rancid looking wound. Patrick stood over them fondly and Allie grew amused at the thought he had taken on the role of big brother.

The two men, one with the grandeur and authority of a VIE (Very Important Elf,) the other undoubtedly Gandalf the Wizard judging by his very wizardy hat, both looked over towards Allie. Gandalf gave a knowing smile and walked towards her,

"I have heard murmurs of a second unusual presence wandering the corridors. You must be Allie. Welcome to Rivendell and indeed, Middle Earth. I hope your time thus far hasn't been too painful. I have been attempting to gain some understanding of your purpose here- it appears your presence is quite significant."

"So I have heard," she murmured, giving a small nod of her head. This man seemed very wise and trustworthy. The title wizard coupled with the impressive staff he held could also imply he could magic them on their jolly way home. She was also slightly suspicious. If, as Patrick claimed, their appearance was to reflect previous soldiers and their activities in previous wars, that would mean this man was about to encourage them to do something very difficult, which would probably end in their deaths, which wouldn't be a very wise thing to agree to. As far as Allie was concerned, she was responsible for herself, Patrick, possibly Boromir if it came down to a life or death situation, and that was it. If there was a chance to go home, this man best not be bargaining it in return for some heroic duties on their part.

"It may be best we have a little discussion and leave the friends to their reuniting," Gandalf spoke fondly, eyes crinkling into a smile as he watched the Hobbits eagerly chatting away about their grand adventure. Patrick took the hint, said his goodbyes and well wishes and followed Gandalf and the mysterious elf out of the door. Allie followed Patrick, unusually nervous about what they would be told.

They were guided into a large library with books filling the walls and a large desk in the centre. Papers and opened books were sprawled around the table. Gandalf motioned for Patrick and Allie to sit as he did the same.

"My name Elrond, Lord of Rivendell. I have heard about your coming and cannot deny I am intrigued by its timing. Many ages ago, a strange man entered the life of Isildur, son of Elendil. His origins were foreign to us all, but he gained the trust and respect of the King. During the War of the Last Alliance, this stranger fought bravely as if the war were his own. He died at the foot of Mount Doom alongside Gil- Galad himself. I myself encouraged Isildur to destroy the ring of power, the root of all this evil, but the darkness overwhelmed him. If it would have been different had the stranger, his good friend, not have perished I do not know." Elrond went on to detail his research into further strange appearances from men of unknown origins, of their efforts to fight for the forces of good, and for their eventual heroic deaths. He also detailed what he knew about this ring of power, of its' return and its' position currently hanging around the chest of the hobbit Frodo.

"The council will convene tomorrow to determine the fate of the Ring," Gandalf noted after Elrond had said his piece, "it may be best you do not partake. Those unfamiliar with your situation may be suspicious. You also, it appears, have a decision to make. I confess, I do not know how to return you to your home, or indeed what forces or magic brought you here."

"What I do know is you both have a choice- no one is forcing you to help with whatever resolution becomes of the council. But it cannot be denied your appearance is no coincidence." Allie grew frustrated that her decision seemed to involve either death, or an unexpected future in an unknown land. Patrick looked a shade paler than usual and attempted to clear a lump which had formed in his throat.

"Everyone has been so welcoming to us. We can only thank you and hope to someday return the favour. If this is to be the favour, then we best have a little council of our own." Allie was grateful Patrick spoke for them. Good levels of respect and political ambiguity. She had taught him well. She was too riled in her thoughts to provide her own response, as they bid their farewells and went to find a large stretch of grass to collapse onto.

…

"Well that was a bit of a shitshow," Allie groaned and collapsed onto a hill they had found. The afternoon sun was cool as hints of winter drifted through the air.

"So, things we do know," she sarcastically ticked off with her fingers, "one, there's no foreseeable way for us to get home, probably ever again. Two, we conveniently came to a place that has just found a magic ring- sorry, nuclear bomb (Patrick had insisted on making it sound more realistic)- belonging to some evil bastard that will probably result in a massive war. Three, everyone before us has annoyingly accepted their mission and died in the process. Good day to be us." She ripped out grass with frustration, knowing she was being inappropriately angry, but not being able to help it. She'd never be able to see her dad ever again. She'd never be able to see her cat ever again. She'd probably never be able to eat chocolate ever again. Patrick was, surprisingly, being the much more realistic and optimistic of the two.

"The way I see it, if all of those points are true, we best make the most of our time while we're here. If those little hobbits can willingly risk their lives without a second thought, it would be a bit of a bad representation of our Earthly inhabitants if we just leg it. Maybe we have some untapped invaluable skills which will miraculously become evident when they're needed. Plus, there's never been a hero lady before. Maybe you're what they're missing!" She selfishly did like the thought of being the first female to do something impressive.

"And if the worst comes to worst, who knows, maybe dying will make us wake up from this dream and we'll find ourselves back home!" The last comment returned Allie's thoughts to Lukas, and she prayed with all her might it was true. She sighed, seeing the logic in Patrick's comments,

"When did you get so rational and grown up?" He leaned in close and winked,

"It's all an act. I'm still holding out on this being a challenge set by Mission Impossible Force to determine if we're worthy for recruitment. Also, if any hot royal ladies turn up I want them to think I'm some heroic, noble stranger, not just some twat from Ireland." Allie gave a small grin as a lump formed in her throat. That was the Patrick she knew and loved. She sighed and laid back on the grass looking at the clouds drifting through the sky.

"No pressure Patrick, but we have a whole world's worth of culture we have to remember. As many songs as possible. I'm already starting to forget the lyrics to _Cotton-Eyed Joe_. God help us." Patrick gasped next to her and started rustling through his bag,

"Wait a sweet minute, you've just reminded me!" He triumphantly drew an old, battered mp3 player from his bag. He held it out to Allie proudly as if it were the holy grail. She merely raised an eyebrow in Patrick's direction,

"Are you telling me you didn't do a bag inventory when you got here?" Patrick guffawed,

"Only weirdos do that, Allie." Though weirdo Allie was the Allie he knew and loved.

After a deep, very important discussion about battery conserving before remembering the army had provided them with beautifully useful solar powered battery chargers- the only useful thing they had provided, in Allie's opinion- they spent hours relishing all the terrible songs Patrick had chosen.

"Wait! Remember that weird month you had where you became really suspicious that the army was bugging your technology, so you just borrowed all my stuff?" A perfectly logical suspicion, in Allie's opinion, "here it is! Allie's playlist!" Allie's heart begun to burst with joy. She then realised, depending on when the playlist was made, there may be some very questionable, post breakup songs on there.

They agreed to save the listening until tomorrow during the Council, while nerves would be high. They debated the probability of the Council not wanting two strangers to help out with whatever it is they would decide, of them not believing Elrond and Gandalf. They also discussed the probability of them being the front line of defence- the cannon fodder or even worse… the bait of their plan. They then agreed to have a nice big drink of alcohol with dinner tonight to try and forget about their very real fears.

…

Allie was in significantly better spirits after her discussion with Patrick. That was until she left her nice warm bath to find no clothes had been returned to her yet. The dreaded green dress had been placed even more suggestively on the foot of her bed and the invisible room cleaners had won this round.

"Those buggers," she grumbled, making a note to find out which elf was meddling with her, before pulling it over her head. Still grumbling, she sorted her hair and put on her boots, taking one last disgusted look down at the flowing fabric before leaving her room and hoping at least the alcohol would be good in this place. She knocked incessantly on Patrick's door,

"Look Patrick, they're making me wear a dress!" she stood in front of his room as he opened the door with an amused expression. She swished her dress from side to side in an elaborate manner, "so as revenge I'm going commando! Get it? Commando? Because the army?" Patrick raised an eyebrow and looked behind her.

"What is this… commando?" Boromir asked from the adjacent door- his room, she had forgotten. Her neck turned a nice shade of pink as Patrick whooped in amusement and moved to pat Boromir on the shoulder.

"That, my friend, is something for a later we will have plenty of. Because it looks like we're here forever!" They set off towards the smell of food, Patrick in his Middle Earth garb, (they'd managed to wash his clothes in time, Allie noted bitterly) Boromir in his finest soldier garb, and Allie in her Princess Fiona Shrek dress. They all silently contemplated Patrick's off-handed comment and the very real implications it held.

"The dress suits you," Boromir commented softly and Allie's already pink neck grew a shade deeper. Patrick found the whole scenario very interesting indeed.

* * *

Trying to read back on these chapters and wondering where I was going with it is interesting! Maybe everything has changed since then... or maybe nothing has?

Also I'm probably terrible at the nice easy to read writing because I can only write history essays sorryyyyyy.

Again stay safe everyone! Wash your hands! ;)


	8. Silly things and silly men

Allie woke up the fateful next morning with a nervous pit in her stomach. She wanted to fall back to sleep and wake up when the Council was over and done with. She didn't like a random group of people deciding her fate- ironic considering her job involved being told what to do by superiors she had usually never met, she thought bitterly. Obviously, no matter what was decided, they'd have to agree. They had nothing else to do; might as well help to save the world. She got dressed as slowly as possible, (her normal clothes had been returned, thankfully) opened her door and walked to Patrick's room as slowly as possible.

"Has it happened yet?" she whined as he opened the door. He looked just as nervous as she felt.

"I've been hiding in here until it all blows over. Let's go find a hill to cry on." They found the same place they sat yesterday. The grass was damp with morning dew. They drank wonderfully fresh elvish water and ate some rationed chocolate to quell their nerves.

"Boromir has never heard of chocolate, Patrick. I don't mean to panic you, but this might ruin everything." Patrick shook his head in agreement,

"Tell you what, when this is all over we'll hijack a boat and go exploring for a rainforest somewhere. Surely someone has a magical cocoa bean lying around in some dirt." Neither of them dared think about how they'd transform it into actual chocolate when- if- they ever found it. They each took an earbud and listened to some music- a bizarre mixture of Elvis and Eminem as they took turns choosing, neither happy with the other's taste in music. They took their sunglasses out of their bags- aviators on Patrick's insistence that their whole platoon should look like the Top Gun squad- and tried to think about nothing but the music.

"What are those?!" Their thoughts were interrupted by two curious hobbits jumping on them. They hastily hid the MP3, not in the mood to have to explain a little thing which held magical recordings of strange music.

"Sunglasses! They stop the sun getting in your eyes and make you look super cool," Patrick took his off and placed them on Pippin's head. He squinted a little and shuffled them about on his nose, before giving a grin of approval.

"You all look brown. Like the sky is muddy." He ran off to show Sam and Frodo his new discovery, as both Allie and Patrick turned to look at Merry. They had spotted the hobbits sneaking off to listen in on the council just before it started. Allie had wanted to follow them, but Patrick had convinced her otherwise. He knew it would have just made her more nervous, and nervous Allie was even more obsessive and anal than usual.

"So?" They asked expectantly.

"We're going on an adventure! Us Hobbits and Strider- he's called Aragorn now- and Gandalf and an elf and a dwarf and Boromir. And you two. To a place called Mordor." Allie gulped. Boromir had told her all about the horrors of Mordor. Patrick gulped. He had felt the dread as he looked over towards Mordor from Minas Tirith. They both quickly excused themselves, reckoning they best find someone to officially induct them onto this death quest.

….

"Hey, Boromir! How did it go?" Boromir was storming towards them as they walked in the general direction of where the Council was held. His eyebrows were knitted into a tight frown. He didn't respond and pushed past them both. Allie watched him march away without even a glance in her direction.

"Ruuuuuuude. Didn't you say that guy was nice?" Patrick tutted. Allie didn't respond, thinking of what might have gone wrong. Merry said he was going on this quest. Wasn't he happy things were resolved? Was he annoyed he couldn't get back to his people? Allie wasn't looking forward to the prospect of another walk if he'd be as grumpy as he was on the first few days of theirs. They came upon Aragorn, Gandalf and two others in deep discussion. One was another elf, slightly different to those of Rivendell. His hair was still golden and flowing, his face as smooth and flawless as a baby's bottom, but his clothes and aura appeared more… forest-y. More like a Robin Hood elf, who flew through the trees with the magnificent bow on his back. The other was a short, stocky man with fiery ginger hair and beard, kind eyes under bushy eyebrows and two massive axes strapped to his back. From Boromir's stories she could only assume he was a dwarf.

"Strider! How did it go? Where are we off to? I heard you've had a name change." Patrick patted him on the shoulder as he gave a tired nod to them both. It appeared as if the Council had been difficult for everyone.

"Strider? This is Aragorn, son of Arathorn. Rightful King of Gondor. You will do well to speak to him as one." Patrick held up his hands in apology as the elf shot him some sharp words,

"That is fine, Legolas. These are the two Gandalf spoke of. They are to travel with us to Mordor. Legolas Greenleaf, Gimli, son of Gloin, meet Patrick of Ire- land and Allie of…?" Everyone turned to her expectantly. No one had asked her this yet. Was it daughter of? Second name? The place she was born?

"York… shire. Allie of Yorkshire" she gave a small bow to them both as Patrick did the same. They were eyed with a mix of suspicion and intrigue. Allie hoped they'd been covered in the Council; explaining the un-explainable was tiring business.

"Excuse me, Aragorn. Lord Aragorn. Do you know why Boromir has left? He walked past us and didn't seem… pleased about the Council." Gimli gave a little chuckle and gave Allie a look,

"This explains it. Well, lassie, the Captain wasn't too pleased you two were coming. Said you'd cause more trouble than you were worth, said you'd just slow the rest of us down. You must be the 'she' he was talking about; it's a pleasure." Patrick sucked in his breath and raised his eyebrows, not daring to look at Allie. Allie was staring at the grinning ginger dwarf, who obviously loved the thought of personal drama.

What. The. Hell. After everything they'd been through and he'd dare pull that one? She didn't know what to say, whether to shout or run and find the guy and punch him. Instead she let out an awkwardly loud laugh, causing everyone to look around at the group in curiosity. After all they had spoke about. She helped him kill that Warg. Didn't moan once about the walking or the lack of food. She mentally reduced Boromir's friendship levels to a solid -1.

She stood in silence, grinding her teeth in annoyance, as Patrick moved on the subject and Aragorn explained what had happened at the Council. So, they were to travel as a Fellowship to Mordor. It would be dangerous. They may not survive. They would put everything on the line to ensure Frodo and the ring get there safely. Aragorn mentioned about training them up with swords for the month they'd remain in Rivendell to prepare. Allie was only half listening, annoyed that a few silly comments were getting to her so much. It didn't matter what he said. It never mattered what the silly men said. She'd passed the tests. She was fighting anyway. She didn't want to waste any of her time thinking about silly things and silly men. Silly.

"Sounds fun!" Patrick said brightly, to the confusion of Legolas and Gimli. They dismissed themselves with a polite bow and wave to their new travelling companions and walked to the food hall. It was soon dinner time, according to Patrick's belly.

"Well, I imagine you've got some walking to do. Some people to find. Some butts to kick. Shall I meet you there?" Allie grumbled and threw a dismissive wave in Patrick's direction as she subconsciously directed herself towards Boromir's room.

…

"So. I've heard some interesting things from this Council. Why are you ignoring me?" She had banged on the door to be greeted by the dark, gloomy face of a very unamused Boromir.

"Why didn't you tell Patrick about your friend?" Allie blinked at his response. Why was he bringing this up now? Why was it his business? Why was he ignoring the question?

"Because he didn't need to know. This is a strange enough situation for him. He's not going to see his family ever again. He's just been told he's going on a quest which might see him dead. He doesn't need to lose Lukas too."

"Is that your decision to make?" Boromir stated bluntly, unflinching at her slightly raised voice.

"It's a decision I _had_ to make. That's the point. Can you say you've had to make that kind of decision?"

"There have been many times I've had to tell a soldier's family they died a hero. It is better than lying and giving them false hope." Boromir shut the door firmly in her face. She gave out a huff, trying not to cry. She had made the right decision. Who knows how Patrick would be if he knew the truth. He was holding it together so far- that could be the thing to tip him over. She was here to survive, and to make sure Patrick survived. And now also to make sure Frodo survived. Probably the other little hobbits too; they were too sweet and innocent for such a fate. Allie was starting to reminisce being back with her platoon, feeling the responsibility of mothering everyone she always placed on her own shoulders. Her old platoon didn't have anyone quite as frustrating as Boromir, however.

…

Allie slumped down next to Patrick, who was happily tucking into a large salad next to some other members of the fellowship.

"I wonder if Elves need to eat. If they're immortal, do they not die if they don't eat? Do they just choose what to look like or when to stop aging? I've just met Elrond's sons, they look younger than Elrond. Will they look like that forever? Will they ever grow beards?" He was rambling to change the subject; it usually worked to cheer Allie up when she was in a mood. She gave a small grin,

"I've heard those are the types of questions sons of elven Lords just love to answer. You should ask them some time. Be incessant with it- it's what you're good at." She sighed but was significantly cheered up and nibbled on one of Patrick's cucumbers, Patrick raising an eyebrow at her as they both thought of the same innuendo. His immaturity tended to rub off on Allie.

"So… what now?" Allie asked no one in particular, and the two friends tried to ignore the sense of impending doom and the longing to see their families again. With Boromir in a mood with Allie, her circle of people she enjoyed spending time with was dangerously small and unfamiliar. Aragorn looked over from his own salad, finishing a conversation he was having with Legolas and another leafy looking elf in some foreign language. It flowed smoother than any language she had heard before and was like music to her ears.

"Tomorrow we can start some training. Elrond's sons, Elladan and Elrohir have agreed to assist us. They are very experienced and use some different techniques to my own. They have also expressed interest in your strange weapons you have described. We must rest in Rivendell until scouts return with news of our passage. which may yet take many weeks."

"Boromir already taught Allie some techniques," Patrick winked at Allie and she kicked him under the table with a glare. Aragorn nodded, not understanding his insinuation.

"We can see what you know tomorrow. For today, we should rest and enjoy our time spent in the company of new friends." Allie tucked into a light and airy scone and started a discussion with Gimli about Dwarves and their livelihoods. He was very interested to hear about her home and their history of coal mining for energy. It wasn't quite hunting for jewels or precious metals, but her description of their move into technology and industrialisation was something else altogether. He raged about this 'Thatcher devil' who took it all away from them. She watched as who she now knew to be Lord Aragorn, future king, (she'd never met a king before) began to speak closely with and looked fondly upon a beautiful elven maiden. She made a point to not look as Boromir walked into the hall and sat at the end of the table furthest from her.

…

Allie woke up early the next day with a new sense of purpose. Become the ultimate sword master. Prove Boromir… people… wrong. Save the Hobbits from anything that might get in their way as they in turn tried to save the world. Allie liked when she had a plan. Now she had something to aim for. She tied her hair into a determined bobble and marched with purpose towards Patrick's door.

Patrick was much less prepared to make a fresh start and kick butt than she was, wearing nothing but boxers and mad curly bed hair.

"Get some clothes on you freak! I could have been some noble Elf lady with important news." Patrick wiggled his eyebrows and gave a suggestive growl, before speedily pulling on some trousers and a shirt. They both took their guns and some ammo with them, Allie quite nervous about showing people such a powerful weapon. If in the wrong hands, it could result in some very one-sided warfare; swords would be no match against guns. especially if someone managed to create machine gun style weapon. That didn't go well for the troops in the First World War. Allie pondered whether their coming might have something to do with their weapons, wondered whether they would cause more harm than good, as they reached a wide clearing outside of the buildings' walls. Two elves and Aragorn were already sparring with each other. Allie could see the difference in their techniques- the elves were swift and agile, reading Aragorn's every move and flowing around him with their double swords. Aragorn was more powerful than his stature suggested, throwing his long sword at the two elves. There was still a swiftness to his movements, suggesting he had some experience of elvish fighting. Allie remembered Boromir's moves. His were pure strength. His jabs and blocks looked tiring but effective in throwing down an opponent with one blow. Allie admired the skill it took to fight- all she needed was a good aim and enough bullets; something she was very aware of the lack of in this place.

Gimli and the Hobbits were sat watching the men train, Gimli looking eager to join in. Allie was intrigued as to how he'd fare against the speed of the elves. Patrick had told her from Frodo's stories that there was a great divide between the races of Dwarves and Elves and she imagined they'd be very competitive.

She also noticed Boromir skulking around the area, just far enough away from anyone's attention who wasn't looking for it.

"Ha! Defeat again. Are you sure you're a suitable match for my dear sister, Strider?" One of the elves mocked- Allie wasn't sure which one, realising as they came closer they looked very, very similar. "And who do we have here? You must be Patrick of Ireland, and Lady Allie. I am most interested to meet both of you. You may call me Elladan." He bowed low and gracefully, in an almost mocking manner. Patrick looked over to Allie with an eye which screamed ' _what a dick_ ,' and Allie tried to hold back a smirk as they bowed their heads in return. The army was full of these types and Allie was very used to dealing with them.

"Aragorn has told us you have prior experience with a sword, Lady Allie. We doubt they are as proficient as our own Elvish techniques, but it will be interesting to work on, nonetheless." The second elf bowed also. She automatically wished she was skilled enough to give them a good old showing up. But for now, she'd just have to bite the bullet and accept their help. Afterall, this was real life they were fighting for, not just for fun.

"I wouldn't say it was much experience. And please, just Allie is fine. Where do we start?" They both smiled at her eagerness to partake and quickly held out a thin, light sword for her, with impressive silver engravings towards the hilt. "I've been using a larger blade than this, will it feel a lot different?" Aragorn came over and showed her how to properly position her hands on the new, unfamiliar hilt.

"The elves are used to lighter swords and speedier attacks. You will have been used to the power and brunt force of a man of Gondor. It will be good to have knowledge of both aspects." She spent the next few hours sparring, losing and several times falling, against the two elves. They took great joy in coming at her from both sides and landing her firmly on her buttocks. Patrick also took great joy in this, as he sat on the floor beside Gimli and the Hobbits conveniently avoiding doing any training of his own, Allie noted with frustration.

"Don't fancy giving it a go, Patrick?" She muttered through gritted teeth,

"I'm fine just where I am thanking you, I'm learning precious amounts about how _not_ to do it from your fine self." The hobbits chuckled as she frowned at him, then got back up and began another manoeuvre. She'd ripped her jacket off by this point and was fighting in just a vest as the sweat dripped from her arms. She noted they were thinner than she liked them, usually taking pride in her muscly arms and broad shoulders. She made a note to do some strength training whilst she was here... she could use rocks for weights. At the end of a long, hard few hours, Allie collapsed next to Patrick and groaned,

"Everything's going to hurt in the morning." She rubbed her already sore glutes as the Hobbits rallied round her eagerly.

"You did well, Miss. Allie!"

"Better than I'd have done, for sure."

"Aye, not too bad for a first go against those tricksy Elves, lassie. You'll fare well in a fight against some actual warriors who dare attack rather than defend every move. I'll show you the proper way tomorrow. Our way." She appreciated the sentiment from Gimli and took note to put him in the potential friend category. She hoped tomorrow she'd have much less of an audience.

"Now, we've shown you ours, you show us yours," Elledan grinned at Allie, having not broke a sweat throughout the whole session and still maintaining annoyingly perfect hair.

"Cheeky, it's only our first date," Patrick muttered with a fake wink at Allie, as they both picked up their guns and showed them to the interested group.

"So here… is where you put the ammunition- like the arrows, so the things you'll be shooting. I guess this is just a bow with more force really, the mechanism inside creates the tension for you. This is the safety. Probably good to keep it on unless you want to accidentally shoot someone you don't want to. This… is a sight. It helps you see further and pinpoint your target easier. Then you just press this and it shoots." They both fired into adjacent trees about 400m from their standing positions. The Hobbits gasped at the noise and the group instinctively rushed towards the trees to inspect the damage. The bullets had gone a fair way into the trunk. Aragorn gently touched the outer rim of the entry point, muttering to himself,

"Much damage… the speed… clean through. This is indeed a powerful weapon. Maybe it will be best to use with caution. Gandalf says stealth will be our greatest weapon during the journey. This 'gun' though powerful, is loud. If the enemy gained insight into such a weapon in its' search for the ring, it will make the dark lord's army a lot more difficult to compete with." Allie felt slightly deflated at the news, feeling like their weapons were the things that differentiated her and Patrick from the rest of the group... if their guns weren't the reason they were here, what was? The thought of having a lack of purpose, of being a spare part, made her nervous. Aragorn sent Patrick with one of the elven siblings to meet with Glorfindel, a highly knowledgeable elf who had shown interest in the weapon. Patrick's knowledge of technology and building things made him eager to discuss the workings with someone who might understand them as he did,

"Do you think we could make another? What about a car? Or a walkie talkie?" He eagerly chattered to the elf who both had no idea what he was talking about and had instantly regretted volunteering to take him. Upon reflection Allie agreed with Aragorn's sentiments; her machine gun donning warg dream was enough to make her want to hide the gun forever so it didn't get into the wrong hands. However, she also determined that if anyone of this Fellowship was in danger she'd probably use it in a heartbeat and face the consequences later- that was why she was here, after all. Wasn't it?

She gratefully accepted Elledan's offer- she began to recognise him as the cockier, more confident of the two elf brothers- of being guided to dinner. That was, after she'd washed the body weight of sweat she'd amassed during her intense workout. She decided to wear the dress that had been heavily encouraged- yet again- on the back of her chair tonight, as a way of thanks to the elves letting her stay. She'd been allowed to do enough cool things for the day that she could swallow her pride for one night. (Plus, Boromir had said it suited her... not that she cared about that.)

* * *

So why are they here, I wonder! Maybe just for fun... maybe for EVIIIIL. Maybe to discover chocolate for Middle Earth.


	9. The mysterious Ardeth Bay

For the next few weeks, Allie felt like she was back in basic training. She practiced with a sword and anyone who would spar with her, as often as she could. She ran early in the morning with rocks in her backpack, used thick branches for pullups and large stones for squatting. She was joined by Patrick some days, but also like basic training, he did the bare minimum required. (Usually this was the bare minimum to pass the Sergeant's drills, this time the bare minimum was before Allie gave up and let him go and play with his new Hobbit friends.) Sometimes Elrond's sons would join her before they went on a scouting mission to gauge the Fellowship's route ahead, sometimes Gimli or Aragorn would join her with interest and the odd time Legolas even participated. Boromir remained stoic and stubborn as ever and still hadn't spoken to her. Patrick was growing to dislike the man very much,

"Why's he such a mardy git is all I'm wondering? Hasn't spoken a word to you after you basically lived together? It takes skill to ignore someone as well as he has in real life. On social media, sure, but in real life it's truly impressive." Patrick had spent most of his time sat in the library, usually in deep, interesting discussions with Glorfindel, Erestor; the Chief Counsellor for Elrond, (as he was surprised to discover after a rather embarrassing discussion about toilets and plumbing) and sometimes even Elrond's daughter, Arwen. He had instantly fallen in love with her beauty, grace and wisdom, before discovering she was infatuated with Aragorn and quenched said love by picturing himself getting beaten up by the Strider.

All were intrigued with Patrick's detailing of the new and ingenious workings of his own Earth. In turn, Patrick had attempted to learn about Elven powers in healing and other otherworldly things, but they proved too magical to understand. Instead, he had eagerly explored the geography of Middle Earth, from the lands of the Shire he had already experienced, to the Grey Havens to the West and its' route to Aman, to most interestingly the sparsely researched lands to the South. Far Harad and Umbar, described as desert running into densely forested land with little known about it, was possibly the closest climate that Patrick could tell to a rainforest. Rainforests meant chocolate. Patrick imagined a grand voyage across the seas, fighting swashbuckling pirates, to land off a dense rainforest coast where he'd have to bargain with natives for safe passage and some cocoa beans. Patrick the explorer. If they got through whatever they'd have to do on this quest, he'd make it his mission to become an explorer. He also considered being the first inventor of electricity, imagining Elves and men eventually communicating using telephones, or armies using walkie talkies and GPS satellite technology,

"I wonder why you haven't already learned about things like this... these old warriors I read about, some of them were around when basic versions of these things were invented."

"Things become forgotten, worthless even, if there is no one to teach them." Patrick pondered on that thought. He knew the basic bits of things- he could fix a car, he could fix a laptop, he could create a weird gun/shield/swiss army knife/ hip flask multi contraption when drunk and bored one night, but what did he know about the basics? He instantly kicked himself for not listening more in history class, or science class, or any class for that matter. He remembered some guy called Alexander Graham Bell invented the telephone. But how did electricity happen? That would be the be all and end all. He stuck to asking Glorfindel about their communication capabilities and whether they'd tried to harness lightening for anything. He also considered making a cool makeshift crossbow- a medieval gun for when they ran out of ammo. Or maybe even some sort of landmines in case they were trapped somewhere. Those should be easy.

Allie watched her friend fondly. His immaturity was only ever to stop his boredom and with a whole world of knowledge to explore he didn't have a lot of time for pranking. 'A lot' being the key words; he still had time to drop disgusting things in Allie's shoes with two particularly sneaky Hobbits for fun. Allie had also gained much of her strength back she had lost from her first few months of rationed food. Fighting with well trained Aragorn and surprisingly powerful Gimli had greatly increased her capabilities and she relished the praise and rare successful shots she managed to win against them. She was a sucker for praise and was most definitely a teachers pet. After one particularly fun session- in which Gimli had her on the floor with both axes by her head, stood gloating above her torso about him being a superior being and she shouldn't be surprised because it was in his blood and his beard, to which the Hobbits had come to her rescue and dragged him onto the floor by said beard- Allie decided to be the bigger man. Boromir was sat on a bench apart from their training arena, pretending to read a book rather than watching the action. She walked past him en route to her bedroom and simply threw him an apple. No words needed. She was the bigger man. Take that, Boromir. She made a point of not looking back to gauge his reaction. She did hope he'd talk to her, though. She was excited to show him her progress.

…

On their way to breakfast the next day, (more fruit... Allie and Patrick noted that elves didn't seem to enjoy food of much substance; they were beginning to crave big greasy breakfasts and disgusting kebabs) they saw an unnaturally quiet looking Merry, sitting unusually alone on the bench in the courtyard they walked through every day. Patrick decided this looked like a case more suited to Allie's mothering and comfort than his awkward jokes, and was also very hungry, so nudged Allie encouragingly towards the Hobbit and snuck off towards the smell of food. Allie shook her head disapprovingly before walking towards Merry and sitting next to him, embracing the silence for a time.

"Are you okay, young Merry? I don't think I've ever heard you so quiet!" She nudged his little shoulder encouragingly and he looked up at her through his curly hair.

"I'm just thinking. Worrying. The Shire already seems so far away and we have farther yet to go. I know what we have to do is dangerous, but Pippin… he's too naive. I'm worried about him when he realises we might not make it back." Allie could see some parallels forming between herself and the more mature Hobbit. The thought of telling Patrick about Lukas filled her mind every night as her room grew dark and lonely, but she didn't want to risk jeopardising how he was feeling now. He would need all his mental strength for the months ahead.

"It must be quite a burden, having to think about yourself and for someone else. I'm sure when the time comes, Pippin will have grown to understand. Until then we just have to hope for the best! If we don't let people grow to learn for themselves and make their own mistakes and decisions, it will only be harder in the future." Merry nodded slightly, still not fully convinced as Allie was painfully aware of the hypocrisy in her words.

"Do you want to know a secret? Something that makes me feel better when I'm worrying?" She saw his head turn slowly with interest, as she tenderly pulled two earphones from her pockets. She had stolen the player from Patrick for her morning run and conveniently forgot to give it back. She handed him an ear bud and he looked understandably confused in return. She put one near her ear and encouraged him to do the same,

"Now you can't tell anyone else about this. Top secret. This little contraption can show you music from our world. It probably sounds strange, but it feels like I have a little piece of home with me. Now let's see…" she considered which song to show him,

"This one's fun. It's from a singer. Can you sing? This man is well known in our land. One of the best. Probably as important as a famous warrior is to Middle Earth. He's called The King" Merry gasped at the thought of a mighty King being known for singing. How bizarre.

"The king is just his nickname, obviously. Let's see… this one is about love. Well. Most of our songs are about love really. This one is called the _Wonder of You_ and is thanking someone for being there for them. Listen to how nice and low his voice is!" Merry's eyes widened as the music played and he took the bud away from his ear to observe it,

"But where is the noise coming from?"

"It's a recording. Someone copies the noise, then stores it in this little thing. I guess it's like someone recording words in a book, but for noises. Then you can just carry it around with you!" Merry listened with intrigue to another few songs.

"I don't understand what they're saying, or what the noise is made with. But it is very interesting; I like this King." Merry's belly rumbled as if on queue and he excused himself for another round of breakfast. He left with more life in his steps and Allie hoped he wouldn't worry as much. As she was placing the player back into the depths of her secret pocket, she heard someone move through the archway into the courtyard.

"You did well to comfort Merry. I sometimes doubt whether the little ones should come. They are too innocent to see such horrors we may come across."

"Just like you doubt whether I should come?" She kept a straight face as she watched Boromir move towards her. He looked better rested than the last time they'd spoken. He had donned his typical Gondorian garb and his hair looked a shade lighter when washed and brushed against his shoulders. She wondered if he was going to cut it, as she attempted to look anywhere except his eyes. Boromir sighed, as if struggling to think of the correct words.

"I admit, I am not happy with how my anger came across. I was frustrated at the Council, at the lack of resolve for my people. I admit… I admit I was concerned for you. The road will be perilous."

"And is that your decision to make?" She mirrored his sentiment from their last heated discussion, "I've managed quite well looking after myself until now."

"I know. I just feel a certain responsibility for you on this quest."

"We're responsible for everyone now. We look out for each other... but in a respectful way."

"Yes… for everyone" Boromir muttered quietly.

Allie sighed, "and for what it's worth, I'm sorry too. It's in my nature to try and protect people. I guess if I were to self reflect it might come across as controlling, but if I make the decisions then it's on my head for better or worse. I understand if that's something that alters the way you think of me."

Boromir smiled and patted her hand as the light breeze moved the last few leaves around their feet and Allie noted it must be winter judging from the bare trees,

"For what it's worth, I think that may be something else we have in common." Allie looked up at Boromir's face, which was creased with a small smile,

"Do you want to train tomorrow? I've been learning some elf skills… and a few dwarf tactics." She grinned hopefully, wanting now to just be close to him again. To her relief he returned the grin and nodded eagerly.

…

It was the morning they were due to leave. By Allie's reckoning it had to be around Christmas time. Of course, Middle Earthlings had never heard of Christmas or Santa Claus, and Patrick had taken great pleasure in telling them all about it the previous day. They had shared some secret ceremonious Christmas chocolate rations that evening before separating for a restless night of little to no sleep. The scouts had returned with words of relative safe passage, but warnings of an evil presence felt throughout Middle Earth. Allie had packed, unpacked, repacked hundreds of times. Debating whether to pack an extra set of warm socks and sacrifice a t-shirt, or pack more secret food or Lukas' medical kit in case of emergencies and risk extra weight; packing for an unknown location and unknown length of time was a challenge for the usually well organised Allie. Patrick, naturally, had yet to do his packing and would probably forget important things like socks and spare boxers. Allie was busy wondering what kind of pants Middle Earth people wore, if everyone just wrapped cloth around their legs or went commando, when a knock interrupted her thoughts. She opened the door to a sombre looking Boromir. He was clad in the gear he had arrived in, horn strapped to his waist and hand resting on his sword. She gave him a small, nervous smile as she hoisted her backpack onto her back- her own army issued one much more comfortable looking than the Middle Earth ones she'd seen the hobbits trying to pack. She gave his arm a small comforting squeeze,

"We should probably go and check if Patrick has actually woken up yet." It was hours before his usual wake up time. Allie secretly wished he was asleep, that they didn't have it in their hearts to wake him and he could just stay here in relative safety until they returned. They walked towards his room just as his door opened and out he stumbled, backpack falling off one shoulder and papers slipping out of his hands.

"What the hell are those?!"

"Notes! In case we need plans or find someone super brainy who can help me build a new gun or a magic jet pack or something." Allie sighed at his eagerness and helped him stuff them into his bag- his very untidy bag- she noted with a disapproving tut.

They had a lovely breakfast of, unsurprisingly, more fruit and healthy things. Not that many of the fellowship could stomach much. Whilst some managed to hide it well, it was obvious they were all nervous. Aragorn spent most of the morning saying goodbye to his Lady Arwen, Allie feeling sympathy for the elf, imagining facing the prospect of possibly never seeing her love again. Her mind drifted back to Lukas' wife before she tried to block those kinds of thoughts. The elves of Rivendell had gifted them all with warm cloaks and many supplies, and the elven twins upon their return from scouting had gifted Allie and Patrick with some impressive swords of their own. Elladan handed Allie a sword perfectly balanced for her new mix of speed and strength, similar to the one she had first trained with in its' impressive silver hilt engraved with leaves, "may it help you in times of need… and bring you back safely." He had said with a smirk and she had give him a fond hug. He reminded her of Patrick, but a lot less weird and perverted.

What appeared to be the entirety of Rivendell followed their procession to wave them off at the gates. They left on foot, Sam guiding his trusty pony charged with the unfortunate task of carrying supplies, in an eerie silence. Aragorn could be seen giving Arwen one last lingering look as they walked away. Allie looked back as often as she could to get one last, long memory of Rivendell and civilisation before they walked through the wilderness towards who knows what. _This is it_ , she thought. Gandalf led the way and the others naturally flanked the Hobbits for protection. As they walked, Allie felt like this was saying goodbye to her dad and any hope of returning home. This was her life now. She took a deep breath and tried not to cry. Looking over at Patrick, she could tell he was thinking the same. The end of one life, the beginning of a new, still very strange one.

"Lady Arwen is very pretty," Pippin commented absentmindedly, pulling everyone from their own deep thoughts. Everyone agreed, Aragorn giving a small, personal smile.

"You're a lucky man, Lord Aragorn. Definitely punching above your weight." Allie unintentionally snorted at Patrick's brave comment, remembering others probably didn't understand his goading and were most likely wondering what exactly Aragorn was punching.

"What about you, Allie? Do you have a love back home who you might never see again?" Dear Pippin, ever the one to word things plainly. Allie gave a small laugh and shook her head,

"Oh no, no one serious in my life at all. My life, my love is the job and all that-"

"Now wait a sweet second," Patrick interrupted her dismissal with a sly look in her direction. Allie instantly grew nervous. "I remember a certain someone you seem to be forgetting. The mysterious Ardeth Bay." Her panicked looked quickly turned into a glare directed strongly at Patrick. Her platoon had never let her forget the time they were showing pictures of wives and girlfriends and husbands to each other, and Allie had just a single cut-out of Ardeth Bay, mysterious desert warrior from The Mummy films in her pack. They had reminded her of it when any potential partner had dared show interest in her since.

"Oh yes, her sweet desert prince Ardeth Bay. Hair and beard as black as the night sky, accent as exotic as they come. But he was chosen to keep the world safe from a deadly threat, to protect humanity from something that could never be released. Naturally, he had to choose the job over the girl. Dear Allie was understanding… she never saw him again, though. It'll take quite a man to tempt her onto that path again." Allie had had quite enough as she prepared to punch Patrick very, very hard. He had conveniently put four Hobbits between them as a safety barrier.

"That's so sad! But very honourable," Pippin exclaimed sincerely. Boromir's stoic expression did not faulter as she risked a quick glance in his direction. Allie had already felt enough embarrassment for the whole journey and they must only have been half a mile from Rivendell by that point.

* * *

Unsure as to whether I can do cute scenes very well... I guess we will have to find out in later chapters- or will we?!

Are Allie and Boromir in luuuuuurve will she save him from a certain deathhhhhhh only time will tellllllll

(I think quarantine is driving me crazy)


	10. Snowbody Knows

Gandalf explained to the Fellowship their aim was to hold the current course west of the Misty Mountains for many miles and days. A very rough and barren landscape, according to the knowledgeable Aragorn, but it attracted less attention from the spies of Sauron. Gandalf led the way with Aragorn close behind and everyone else keeping pace; the taller beings unintentionally assigning themselves a smaller Hobbit to keep an eye on, with Legolas and his super elf vision at the rear. Days passed as they walked through miserable winds, over open planes and through dense, sharp woods. Allie could barely sleep with unease- there was no noise of life over the dreary wind and no fire to comfort them at night so as not to risk being seen.

The weather made a slight change for the better after a few weeks. A ray of sun split the clouds and allowed the group a brief respite from the wind. Their cloaks soaked up the mild winter sun and they treated themselves to a seat after a difficult night march. Gandalf congratulated them on making good time and decided to rest for a day and a night in a clearing surrounded by thorny bushes and towering boulders. Allie and Patrick stared at the mountains that loomed before them: soon to be their path. The snowy tips glinted from the shine of the cold winter sun, Allie imagining the peaks to be the claws of an ice giant, buried under years of snow. As Sam eagerly set to cooking them a hearty breakfast- the smell of bacon making Patrick's heart skip a beat- Merry and Pippin challenged Boromir to a sparring session. As Gimli debated with Gandalf about taking a route through the mines of Moria, which Allie thought sound pretty interesting, the rest of the fellowship watched on with tired smiles as the two hobbits worked together to try and test the complimentary Gondorian,

"Very good, Pippin! Merry, move your feet."

"Faster!" Aragorn interjected with a hint of glee in his voice. Boromir accidentally nicked Pippin's hand as he faux thrusted towards a ready block and the two hobbits looked at each other with shock. Allie gave Boromir a disappointed tut as he quickly looked over to her in panic; his time was up.

"Get him!" The hobbits shouted, before kicking and attacking every part of Boromir they could reach. He slowly collapsed onto the floor, feigning defeat as the hobbits held him down,

"For the Shire!" Allie snorted at their excitement before running in for a piece of the action herself,

"Allie to the rescue!" She hollered, jabbing Pippin in the side with her fingers until he let go of Boromir's leg through laughing too hard.

"We're surrounded!" Merry cried out, letting go of Boromir's arm and leaping on a crouching Allie. He grabbed her round the neck, and she stood up and swung him round in a circle, making herself dizzy before plonking down on the floor with a tired,

"Truce?" Merry nodded and gave her a firm handshake of agreement, before looking past her at the sky in confusion,

"What is that?" Nobody replied as they all looked up at the sky. Whatever it was didn't look natural. It moved at great speed, twisting and turning like a cloud of bugs. As they steadily drew nearer Allie noticed it was a strange formation of birds, flying as if they were a pack hunting for prey. She barely heard Aragorn crying out for them to hide before someone had dragged her into a particularly prickly bush. The birds were black and ragged like crows. They cawed as they circled the Fellowship's position and eventually turned to fly back the way they came.

"Crebain from Dunland. We are being watched. We would be best not to light a fire again." Pippin groaned with frustration at Gandalf's words- they hadn't even managed to finish the breakfast Sam had being cooking… what were bacon and sausage without the mushrooms? Allie jokingly thanked Boromir for dragging her into the worst, most painful hiding spot around and helped him climb back out from behind her, pulling spiky bush needles from his leather clad arms.

…

The Company steered their way now towards Caradhras- their best route determined by Gandalf and Aragorn to be over the mountains, preferring the cold and perilous weather over the cold and perilous company they may find on other routes. Allie was still curious about the mines Gimli spoke of so fondly but didn't dare ask Gandalf as he led the group through the snow drifts with steely determination on his face. Allie and Patrick were fine with the relative cold- they had spent many a wet, miserable training day in Scotland and neither Cork nor Yorkshire saw much heat even in the summer months. The sun still shone as they slowly gained altitude, but it provided no warmth. Their path grew steep and jaggedly and the bitter wind made it even harder to walk. The poor hobbits shivered under their many layers of Rivendell clothing. Allie showed them her secret pocket warmers,

"It's this special gel in a pouch. Just crack it a bit like this and pop it in your pocket." Their eyes had widened with glee for a moment as the pad had heated their pale hands and sides. 'Take that Patrick' she thought, for saying she'd never use them after she proudly showed them off to him at the camping store.

As they reached a perilous ledge to traverse around one by one, Allie felt something soft touch her nose. She twitched it and onto her hand fell a snowflake. It was nice for the first few minutes, but soon after it began to fall like a blanket. Patrick had always loved snow, and as they stumbled up a hill surrounded by mountain ranges and steep declines on both sides, he decided to be completely inappropriate and throw a snowball right at the back of Allie's head. She gave a shout of shock, thinking she was being attacked and everyone instantly turned, ready to defend.

"Are you kidding me?" Patrick feigned innocence as Allie instantly dropped and rolled a snowball of her own. It whistled past Patrick's head and disappeared into the snowy ground. The hobbits chuckled, both with relief at not being attacked and at the snow dripping from Allie's head.

"Anyone want to lend a hand?" As if trained for this very occasion, Merry professionally rolled a ball and threw it with significant power right at Patrick's face. Allie cheered and whooped as Patrick scooped ice off his cherry red nose.

"You want a war? You've got a war." Snowballs flew in every direction, Gandalf allowing them a few minutes of slow progress as they ducked and dodged their way around the non-participating members. Gimli dared throw a few, before the cold, snowy repercussions had him arguing,

"Now is not the time or the place for such games young hobbits!" and then getting a snowball straight in the back. Allie dared throw one at Boromir which bounced nicely off his shoulder. His challenging eyebrow raise suggested he'd gladly join in if it weren't for his want to maintain his professionalism. Allie followed suit and fell back to walk with the more mature members of the company.

"I grew up in the shadow of the White Mountains. We had many journeys through such high places. I fear the worst is yet to come; we might want to conserve some energy."

"You just know I'd beat you after our darts match," Allie muttered in response and Boromir allowed himself a small smile in her direction. His face had grown tired and grey over the journey and he had been much quieter. Something was troubling his mind, Allie could tell. But she knew he wasn't the type to share feelings around a campfire. If only she could get him alone to ask how he was doing. If being in the army was anything to go by men loved to talk; they just didn't want to do it in front of their fellow men. They loved to do it with Allie, though. She thought the female presence reminded them of their mothers, and if it made them feel better, who was she to refuse.

After a cold, small meal of something with little flavour they had resumed their incessant trek up the snowy slope. Patrick nudged Allie in both awe and frustration as he noticed Legolas far ahead tiptoeing along the top of the snow as if it were a carpet. He ploughed past the rest of the group to annoy him with a fresh set of questions about the workings of Elves and their strange feet. Allie found herself at the back of the group with Boromir, a slight distance away from any curious ears. Now was her chance to do some bugging of her own,

"So. Boromir. I can't help but notice… well, I like to think I know you well enough to notice by now… if anything… is everything ok? You seem a bit distant. Like something's on your mind, and I'd like you to know I'm here if-"

Her rambling was halted by poor Frodo tripping in the snow and rolling back down the slope towards them. Aragorn rushed to help and they both hauled the poor Hobbit up and dusted the snow out of his dark curly hair,

"Well I'd give that a ten out of ten for the landing," she grinned and squeezed his shoulder. Frodo's sheepish face switched to confusion as he grappled at the empty space around his neck. They looked further up the mountain to Boromir, who was stood transfixed at the ring dangling from his gloved hands. Allie realised she hadn't seen the ring before and looking directly at it brought a wave of pressure over her, as if someone was pushing at the sides of her head wanting to squeeze it off her neck. She could swear she could hear someone whispering. She could swear it was Lukas' voice… or maybe her father's. Whatever it was, she'd be able to hear it better if she were just a bit closer to the ri-

"Boromir." Aragorn's warning tone snapped Allie back to her body, stood frozen with the other members of the Fellowship on a cold mountain side. Boromir's eyes didn't move from the ring,

"It is a strange fate that we should suffer so much fear and doubt over so small a thing… such a little thing." Boromir's hand slowly rose to touch the ring, and Allie felt her breath catch in her throat. This whole scenario was crazy. The rest of the fellowship had their hands on their weapons and Patrick, eyebrows furrowed and eyes filled with a rage Allie had never seen before, started to move back down the hill towards Boromir.

"Boromir! Give the ring to Frodo."

"Boromir, please." Whether it was Aragorn's urgency or Allie's soft plea, Boromir blinked suddenly and looked around him. He gave a small smile which didn't reach his eyes before passing the ring to Frodo, who swiftly hid it inside his layers. As if finally sensing the tension and the hands everyone kept firmly on their weapons, Boromir jokingly tousled Frodo's hair,

"As you wish. I care not." Everyone released a mental sigh, and as Boromir's face lost its' transfixed expression and Patrick's returned to his usual soft disposition, Allie suddenly felt a great sense of pity for young Frodo having to shoulder all that obvious power by himself. She offered him a sneaky square of her secret chocolate and tried to ignore the nagging feeling in her stomach which was telling her to get Boromir as far away from the ring as possible. Patrick, ever the wonderful mood changer, started singing a tune Allie knew would become the start of something never-ending, and she silently cursed him for it. He donned his worst cockney accent possible and begun…

" _Some things in life are bad,_

 _They can really make you mad,_

 _Other things just make you swear and curse,_

 _When you're chewing on life's gristle,_

 _Don't grumble, give a whistle,_

 _And this'll help things turn out for the best…_ **EVERYBODY** ,"

Naturally, everyone looked to Allie in confusion but she just shook her head, failed to hold back a grin, and joined in,

" _Always look on the briiiiight siiiiide of life_ ," Patrick whistled his best whistle whilst encouraging others to do the same,

"Oh of course, I forgot, terribly sorry everyone but someone in the room has let us down with their disturbing inability to whistle," he looked pointedly at Allie as the Hobbits turned and stared at her in horror. What ensued was a good long hour of the little devils eagerly whistling the tune and attempting (failing) to teach Allie to do the same. Gimli eventually groaned in frustration,

"You just purse your lips lassie, there's really nothing to it." Aragorn said his piece,

"You're putting your tongue in the wrong place." Even Legolas had the audacity,

"Maybe if you just try blowing properly first, the noise will appear naturally." Boromir knew not to even risk it. Wise, thought Allie; he's learning.

…

Dark skies loomed over them and harsh winds picked up unnaturally quickly. Allie wondered whether Middle Earth weather was always this dramatic as she admired the true strength of Boromir in front of her carrying a hobbit in each arm and powering through the rapidly forming snow drifts. She had taken on the role of spare bag duty and was carrying as much as would fit on her shoulders. The snow fell incessantly and the wind whipped flakes into their eyes. Legolas tiptoed ahead and stood, listening intensely. Allie wondered if the weather genuinely wasn't bothering him in the slightest or if he was just putting on a good show. Allie tripped on a hidden rock and groaned with frustration. As Patrick helped her up, she saw the concern in his eyes, and as if on queue they heard a harsh whisper in the air. Allie worried the ring had sprung free and was coming to consume all their minds. Patrick was worried an evil giant bird was coming to pick them off the mountain to feed to its' babies. A great crack followed as rocks tumbled from the top of the mountain above their heads. They leaped for safety towards the rock face, as they both wondered whether the mountains of Middle Earth were actually alive. They wouldn't put it past this place.

"He's trying to bring down the mountain, Gandalf! We must turn back!" Aragorn cried over the storm. Allie checked whether the Hobbits were OK, but they were too cold and tired to respond. She cast a concerned glance at Boromir. It was obvious they wouldn't make it much further this way, and Allie was beginning to worry about the alternative route if it was considered worse than this. Another crack of lightning flashed through the sky- unnatural, Allie thought briefly, for a snowstorm- before a heavy sheet of snow rained down on them and suddenly the cold consumed her.

…

Allie found brief comfort in having no wind lashing at her face or snow hitting her in the eyeballs, before realising she couldn't really breathe. She allowed herself a moment of panic before focusing, feeling which side of her the snow was least tightly packed and then digging in that direction. She popped out of the snow to see everyone shaking excess off their heads and wiping it out of their beards. Patrick was of course pretending to backstroke in the new lighter snow. Allie tried to pick the snow out of her ears and nose as the fellowship argued how best to proceed. Gandalf had eventually presented Frodo with the ultimate decision and Allie gave him a look of utter sympathy whilst also slightly relieved, never ashamed to admit decision making wasn't a strong point. She heard Patrick muttering,

"Gandalf to magic portal us there, Gandalf to magic portal us there," as Boromir pulled Marry and Pippin in closer to his sides for warmth. Allie made note to remember this protective, comforting side to goad him with at an annoying point in the future, as Frodo hesitantly spoke,

"We will go through the Mines."

"So be it," Gandalf replied and nothing more was said. Doubt riddled Frodo's face and Allie wanted nothing more than to take the Ring from him so he didn't have to bear the burden. She scalded herself instantly, however; she knew how it felt to be doubted, for people to not trust her with responsibilities because of who she was. Frodo was chosen for a reason and he was probably stronger than she'd ever hope to be. Patrick had wandered over to offer some words of Patrick wisdom, and though she couldn't hear what he said she could see Frodo's face lift. The storm had steadied ever so slightly, and Allie had a feeling who- or what- ever had set it upon them was happy with the outcome, and that couldn't possibly mean good news.

"Why do I have a bad feeling about this?" She muttered to Boromir as he encouraged Merry and Pippin to stagger along in front of him to get feeling back into their limbs. Gimli's mood had heightened significantly at news they'd be travelling to the Mines, which just made the solemn look on Gandalf's face even more disconcerting.

"I feel you are right to do so. Not everything appears to be as it seems, and this storm could be the least of our worries." Allie chuckled,

"Our weather problems on patrols at home usually involved sandstorms- the complete opposite to this. Blistering sun, sand flying in your eyes, bugs everywhere. Always look on the bright side, right?"

Subconsciously, Merry began whistling the tune through chattering teeth as they set off in the exact same direction they had come, using their old tracks as a path through the deep snow. She would have to remember to either kill or congratulate Patrick for this sometime.

* * *

To the mines!

Thank you for the comments, how lovely! This is the last of the old chapters I discovered so I'll have to actually write proper stuff now, woops!

Just to reiterate this is based on the film but I may be intending to mix things up a bit!

(sorry if any errors I'm doing this at midnight because I can't sleep and who even has a proper routine in lockdown anymore NOT ME)


	11. Out of the frying pan

Snow had been replaced by a rocky valley filled with mist. The kind of mist that managed to make everything down to your underwear cold and wet and very uncomfortable. Allie had been pleasantly distracted by Gimli's fond tales of his family as night fell, and there seemed to be no sign of them stopping for rest. Gandalf was guiding them somewhere, but he'd merely muttered 'the entrance' when she'd asked what their final destination was. She tried to put her soldier frame of mind on; accept they were being guided by someone who knew where they were going and just do as she was told. It was slightly harder to do so in a land where she knew monsters and other creepy characters could sneak up on them at any minute.

"I'll have to introduce you to my cousin Balin, what a character he is! He'll beat anyone in a mead drinking contest then still debate politics after everyone else has retired. And the fires, the roaring fires! Get yourself in front of one of those and even the thought of snow will dry straight off yer, lassie. You'll be treated like family I'll make sure of it. Just a mention of your shire of York and you'll have suitors lining up." She could see Patrick eagerly preparing a witty comment before she interrupted,

"As charming as I'm sure that would be… Gimli, a place to rest and some hearty Dwarvish food would be more than enough hospitality for me." Gimli chuckled and nudged her slightly,

"You might change your tune after seeing mighty Frár. Many have suggested he has man in his blood due to his unusual height and beard as smooth as our Mr. Elf's hair."

"I wonder what your children would look like…" Patrick mused as Allie sent a glare his way and an awkward grimace smile at Gimli.

"Ah! The walls of Moria!" Gimli had become distracted and Allie used the opportunity to edge to the rear of the group as they stared upon a great wall of rock. Behind them was a black lake and Allie backed towards it to rinse her hands and face as Gimli rapped on the stone, bragging about the magic invisible nature of Dwarf doors. Allie failed to see the benefit at this current moment in time. Boromir tapped her shoulder as she bent over and swirled an experimental finger into the shallows,

"You may not want to trust that water," he warned, casting a suspicious glance across the still surface. She immediately pictured three headed walking piranhas- who knew in this place- and thought it best just to live with her dirt forever. She hoped the dwarves had nice hot showers or baths behind the wall they were all staring at, but looking at Gimli that didn't seem likely. Gandalf was muttering and lightly dusting a certain part of the wall as the moon suddenly escaped from behind the clouds. The light revealed an ornate door, leaves and vines wrapping around some words Allie could only assume was some sort of Dwarvish.

"What do you suppose it means?" Merry voiced what half of the group was thinking,

"Oh, it's quite simple. If you're a friend, you speak the password and the doors will open." Gandalf spoke a phrase and held his staff against the shining star at the centre. Everyone waited as nothing happened and Gandalf attempted again… to no avail.

"Nothing's happening," Pippin dared to highlight, and Gandalf shot him a hair-raising glare,

"I once knew every spell in all the tongues of elves, men and orcs…"

"Have you tried open sesame," Patrick whispered to Allie and she awarded him with an amused smile.

"What are you going to do then?" Pippin pried; Allie was glad he was doing the annoying of the all-powerful Wizard rather than her.

"Knock your head against these doors Peregrin Took! And if that does not shatter them and I'm allowed a little peace from foolish questions, I will try to find the opening words." And so they waited. And Sam said goodbye to his beloved pony. And they waited some more. And they ate some food trying to chew quietly so as to not disturb Gandalf. And they waited some more.

"So… are those not Dwarvish words on the door?" Patrick enquired finally. Aragorn shook his head and reorganised himself on his rock seat,

"That is the language of elves. This door was built at a time when Dwarves and Elves were tied together through friendship and trade. It was to facilitate travel between the two kingdoms, and they were united in creating the entrance." Gimli's stony expression directed at Legolas highlighted the present state of that union.

Merry and Pippin had grown tired of the history lesson and begun to skim rocks in the 'Lake Of Death', as Allie had begun to refer to it as in her head. Aragorn and Boromir both rose and halted the brief merriment, observing as the ripples from their stones grew into something more… unnatural. Frodo had cried out in success and Allie didn't know which way to turn, as she could swear the water had begun to form waves which were advancing towards them. She slowly moved to her gun, before remembering they were using swords now and grasped the hilt in anticipation.

A great crack shocked the group as the rock doors swung open into the darkness of Moria. Gandalf placed a crystal on the top of his staff and proceeded to lead the way through the empty space the rock once filled. Patrick motioned to a torch he had grabbed from his bag and Gandalf nodded briefly. He then motioned for Allie to do the same and she pulled hers from her side pocket, aiming it with her left and keeping her right hand firmly on her hilt. Her nerves were making her fingers itch as she shone the torch into the first corners she could find- always check corners first. Gimli was joyously introducing Legolas to the Dwarf hospitality he'd be expecting soon, as Allie quietly missed the professionalism of her platoon. She could see Patrick naturally taking point just behind Gandalf and subconsciously making all clear signs with his hands as Allie stuck to the rear and kept an eye on the tail end. But the all clear signs were automatically suspicious; where was the welcome party? Where were the roaring fires and smells of cooking meats? Allie's torch shone onto something pale as she heard Patrick gasp ahead of her. The light bounced off bone after bone of what could only be a skeleton; judging by the size and the hair that remained, that of a dwarf.

"This, my friend, is the home of my cousin Balin. And they call it a Mine!" Gimli still preached, as everyone begun to spot the scene of death and despair around them,

"This isn't a mine… it's a tomb," Boromir breathed as Patrick noticed arrows protruding from one of the corpses. Gimli's face turned to shock as he wailed and ran towards one of the bodies.

"Goblins," Legolas spat, pulling the arrow Patrick had been observing from the chest of a skeleton and discarding it with disgust. Patrick and Allie looked at each other, trying to picture whatever Middle Earth goblins could be like if they could cause this sort of mayhem- definitely not the sour faced goblins who ran banks in Harry Potter. They both started to draw their swords, Patrick instantly wishing he had taken more lessons like Allie had bugged him to, as everyone started backing out of the mine entrance.

"Get out of here! Get out!" Boromir took the lead, starting to push the huddle of hobbits out of the door. Allie was beginning to think she'd rather try and carry four hobbits through the snow herself than walk through this giant room of bodies, when a cry from Frodo turned everyone towards the lake. A large tentacle was dragging him into the water… a tentacle?!

The hobbits stabbed and slashed at the tentacle with their little swords until it dropped Frodo and they managed to drag him away. The first tentacle was joined by dozens more as they rose out of the murky water and rained havoc upon the hobbits.

"A kraken?!" Allie cried out,

"Of course not, Krakens aren't real!" Patrick said incredulously. Allie just gave him a look as if to say 'remember where we are for a second,' before making a mental note to ask the rest of the group about any and all possible creatures they could encounter along the way, along with their strengths and weaknesses and favourite meals. Frodo was flying through the air as the rest of the group slashed and swerved tentacles. Allie could swear she could hear Patrick making pirate noises as Boromir grabbed a falling Frodo, having finally broken free of the beast.

"Into the mines!" Gandalf hollered, and Allie hurriedly tried to weigh the pros and cons of the death lake and the death mine as she was pushed again towards the entrance. Her decision was made for her as the creature tore at the doorway, bringing it down behind them and blanketing the fellowship in darkness.

…

Patrick coughed as dust from the falling rocks filled his nostrils and tried to smack his torch against the back of his hand to get it working. Nope, definitely broken. He snuck it back into his bag, planning on not telling Allie as she would most definitely grumble at him for being irresponsible. He'd just say he was conserving energy or something. Gandalf had turned on his magic staff anyway.

"We now have but one choice, we must face the long dark of Moria. Be on your guard, there are older and fouler things than orcs in the deep places of the world. Quietly now, it's a four day journey to the other side. Let us hope that our presence may go unnoticed." Patrick sighed, re-positioned his pack on his back and wondered when was the most appropriate, or funniest, moment to mention Allie's slight fear of the dark as they started trudging wearily up some giant stone steps.

Allie stared in awe as they traversed through great, cavernous rooms with ceilings which went past the scope of Gandalf's light, narrow bridges and winding staircases. She made sure to praise the dejected Gimli and inquire about any interesting architecture she spotted. Silver threaded through the mine walls and Gandalf explained the mithril which dwarves had mined so expertly. Allie traced her fingers across the glittering veins, trying to picture a time these rooms would have been filled with activity. She reminisced about times when they had had to do reconnaissance missions on recently bombed areas; seeing the rooms people had lived in now covered with dust and long forgotten. The memories lived on with the people though, as she thought of Gimli's stories and tried to not picture her father looking into her room filled with her things she'd never use again. Patrick gave her a quick shoulder nudge and reassuring smile and she returned one. At least she had Patrick.

…

With no sunlight to judge the time, they relied on Gandalf, or the hobbits' weary bodies, to tell them when to rest. Very little sleep was had, as they took look out shifts and slept on comfortless stone. Allie found herself keeping watch one night with a weary looking Boromir, and they sat in comfortable silence for a bit before Allie whispered to him. Any noise echoed, and paranoia was starting to creep in whenever she heard a dropping stone or sniff from a sleeping member of the group.

"How are you feeling? We're a damn sight way away from sleeping in the woods on the way to Rivendell, aren't we? If I knew we'd end up here I'd have tried to remember the stars more." Boromir rubbed his face and ran a hand through his hair,

"I will not lie to you, this place is taxing. It is hard to see hope when one can only assume it will get worse from here. Every step on this journey feels like a step further away from helping my people, further away from Gondor…" Boromir faded off into a longing look and Allie rested her hand on the top of his,

"I guess we just have to trust that people know what they're doing. People like Gandalf hold more knowledge and power than we can probably comprehend… and wouldn't do anything without good reason," Boromir's face soured slightly,

"Do you always follow so blindly? Do you not want to understand why or when or how? To have some control over your fate?" She gave a small, quiet laugh and quickly retracted her hand from his,

"You know I do, Boromir. But you also know I can't." Their silence resumed, decidedly more awkward than the last one, and Allie wondered whether her friend Boromir would ever return. Their shift ended and Allie fell into an uneasy sleep, filled with dreams of Lukas being eaten by krakens and wargs and creatures of all shapes and sizes.

…

The next day, another unsatisfying breakfast (especially for the hobbits) was followed by more walking up more stairs (Patrick hated stairs.) They reached a junction with three doorways in front of them, and their day was about to become even better as Gandalf muttered,

"I have no memory of this place."

Gandalf pulled out his pipe and the fellowship settled down as they waited for Gandalf to either remember or guess their next route. Patrick came and settled next to a quieter than usual Allie,

"Lovers tiff?" He probed cheekily, pulling out a piece of dried bread to chew on and wave about if the conversation became more animated,

"Whatever do you mean?" Allie scoffed, "tensions are just high, is all." Patrick hummed and nodded,

"You know I'm not one to warn you against things, Allie. If anything, I actively encourage you to do more than usual, most times," his voice became slightly more hushed, "and I know you spent a significant amount of time with him. But from my perspective, Allie, my all knowledgeable perspective… I am just a bit wary of Boromir." Allie risked a glance towards the Gondorian, who was tapping absentmindedly on his sword hilt and gazing into the dark abyss below them.

"I don't know what to say, Patrick. I don't know if you feel it, but that ring… it seems to have a pull. I felt it when Frodo dropped it and I think it's getting to Boromir. I've got no clue what to do about it, or if I have any right. I just know things don't feel… quite right." He could feel the helplessness radiating off her. Allie hated when she didn't have a plan of action; it made her feel restless and impatient. Patrick didn't have the heart to tell her she'd probably be feeling it a lot around here.

"Just be careful then. You know I can't save you every day. Just Tuesdays and Thursdays. I get my hair done on Wednesdays." He flipped his head back, spraying the floor with breadcrumbs in the process.

"Oh! It's that way," Gandalf exclaimed, slowly pulling himself and his pipe up towards one of the doorways. They slowly followed single file into the 'least foul smelling' passageway, as Gandalf had described it, (Allie was inclined to disagree) and into a great, echoing, cavernous room.

"Behold the great realm and dwarf city of Dwarrowdelf." His staff shone to reveal giant columns as far as the eye could see. It unnerved Allie slightly that she could see neither the ends of the room nor the top of the ceiling. They walked through the looming stone columns until Gimli spotted something which made him wail in horror. The group raced after him as Gimli collapsed in front of what appeared to be a tomb with signs and symbols engraved along the edges.

"No, no, no," Gimli repeated, head bowed. Allie rested a hand on his shoulder as Gandalf translated the tomb runes,

"Here lies Balin, son of Fundin, Lord of Moria. He is dead then." Gimli wailed and cried as Gandalf picked up a book from one of the skeletons strewn around the tomb. Allie couldn't help but imagine Lukas' wife replicating Gimli, as she felt a wail of her own threaten to bubble up inside her and gripped his shoulder tighter. Patrick felt the hair on the back of his neck stand up- he liked to call them his spidey senses- as Gandalf read solemnly from the dusty, blood stained book in his hands.

"We cannot get out. They are coming." He finished a passage which ominously trailed off the page. Patrick's hand moved towards his sword in anticipation.

He quickly unsheathed it and spun around when an almighty bang, followed by several other crashes, came from beside a cringing Pippin. Whatever he had thrown down the well echoed throughout the mines and everyone held their breath waiting for something terrible to happen. Patrick gripped his chest,

"That was a close one!" he whispered to Allie,

"Don't bloody curse it you fool!" she hissed as Gandalf slammed shut his book,

"Fool of a Took! Throw yourself in next time and rid us of your stupidity!" Pippin cringed again, and Patrick was about to show him some sympathy, (he could see the obvious parallels between the telling off they both received) when the faint sound of drums filled the silence. Everyone unsheathed their weapons, Allie instinctively moving towards Patrick as a screech came from inside the hall they were just in. An inhuman screeching.

"Orcs!" Legolas exclaimed and Allie was almost relieved to hear a familiar name. They had been warned about Orcs. Boromir instinctively ran towards the doors to barricade them, as two arrows flew through the gap and just past his head. Aragorn rushed to help heave the doors shut as Boromir laughed harshly,

"They have a cave troll!" Allie and Patrick looked at each other in shock and horror, about to finally see if everyone had been telling the truth about these fabled cave trolls. Allie wanted more than anything for them to be fibbing.

"Now would be a great time to be sucked back home, right?!" Patrick echoed her sentiments as they gripped their sword hilts and the racket behind the door grew. It sounded like there were millions of things behind it. Allie realised she'd never experienced true hand to hand combat before. She'd never had to look her enemy in the eye, see the want to kill her and smell their hate and feel and hear their breathing as they fought to the death. She focused on her own breathing as Gimli leaped onto his cousin's tomb and screamed his war cry,

"Aghhhhh! Let them come, there's one dwarf yet in Moria who still draws breath."

A hole formed in the door as enough pressure enabled an orc to stick his head through. Allie was instantly repulsed by his blackened face and even blacker eyes. His sharp teeth were covered in dark blood and any fears she had of feeling guilt at having to kill these… things were washed away by the inhuman screech that left its' mouth. The door collapsed and a wave of orcs enveloped the Fellowship. The smell hit Allie first, as orc upon orc came at her with broken blades and sharp metal sticks. They smelt of festering flesh and mud and death. She blindly stabbed at whatever she could, blood and body fluid squirting at her from all angles. Then upon seeing Patrick blocking and lunging and swerving attacks, began to regain her senses and think more logically. She ducked a few blows if she was feeling tired, looked for pressure points for a quick kill and steadied her breathing- making sure not to breathe with her mouth open and get a nice mouthful of blood and guts. Her fleeting moment of accomplishment was quelled instantly by a doubly hideous sight, as the cave troll came crashing through the doorway, smashing his fists wherever they could reach and whipping the broken chain tied around his neck.

Patrick paused just to take a look at the creature, easily three times the height of the normal sized people in the room. He saw Sam dive through the things' legs as Aragorn and Boromir yanked on his chain. Patrick considered the chance this was all still a bizarre dream, as upon seeing Boromir get thrown into a wall by the troll, he ran at the thing and tried to go for the ankles to get him to drop. The troll started swiping at all annoyances; both the Fellowship and any orc who got in his way. Patrick found himself avoiding both a sword wielding orc and the bumbling feet of the troll who had took a shining to Frodo. His senses were at their height, as they usually were in a combat situation. For all his lack of training he seemed to remember things in the heat of the moment; a talent Allie was often frustrated by. He was remembering blocking manoeuvres as if they were dance moves, skirting round lunges and counting his steps as he shimmied past flailing limbs.

Any sort of adrenaline-fuelled excitement he was feeling was quenched instantly when he heard several cries from Sam,

"Frodo!" The battle appeared to pause as everyone rushed towards the little hobbit. Legolas had expertly taken out the troll, who landed on the stone with an almighty thud as Aragorn was turning over Frodo's body. 'Is there a restart button for this expedition?' Patrick pondered to himself as the remaining orcs started to slink away. A gasp came from Frodo's body as he groaned and grabbed at the place a hole should have been. As he revealed his secret magic vest armour, and Patrick wondered if he should ask to test whether it was bulletproof, an ominous noise echoed around them. This appeared to be only round one.

"To the Bridge of Khazad-dum!" Gandalf cried as they escaped the tomb area. A swarm of orcs appeared behind them and in front of them, seeping through cracks in the walls and the floors, scurrying down the columns of the great hall. Allie instinctively grabbed Boromir's arm as they found themselves surrounded, trying to remember her army training about getting captured. Don't say anything, don't show fear, don't even tell them your name. Looking at the gleeful faces on the closest orcs, Allie didn't think they'd bother with hostages. A low roar grew from the depths below them and a red hue emerged from the furthest end of the great space. The orcs begun to scatter, but it filled none of them with relief,

"What is this new devilment?" Boromir sighed. The resigned look on Gandalf's face filled Allie with dread; as hard as they said this journey would be, she didn't expect to die so soon.

"A balrog; a demon of the ancient world. This foe is beyond any of you… RUN!" They leaped over chasms and down steps as Allie could swear the air around them started to burn like a wildfire. Sweat and orc blood blended on her forehead and fell into her eyes. She tried to look round and make sure everyone was still there as they reached a break in the staircase and were faced with a gaping chasm to leap over… just to add to their troubles. Legolas leaped over it and looked over expectantly at the others. The air around them trembled as the roof begun to collapse. Gandalf jumped over to join Legolas as arrows began raining down on them. Allie and Patrick cursed and followed suit before resolving to grab their guns. They could help Legolas provide cover, and it wasn't like stealth was the most important factor right now. As they tried to pick off the orcs hiding in the various walkways above them, Boromir jumped over with Merry and Pippin in hand. Allie blocked out the noise around her as she focused on targets through her sight, trying to use as few bullets as possible,

"I may or may not still have that vintage WW2 grenade in the bottom of my bag, if you think we should take this moment to test if it still works," Patrick muttered as the fellowship continued to leap over the ever growing gap.

"You should probably save it for a less precarious location," Allie countered as they stopped shooting to watch Aragorn and Frodo nearly fall to their deaths. As they leaped onto the stairs and the last of the ledge collapsed into the abyss, they ran to another room as the air now filled with flames. Rushing towards a narrow bridge, with a prick of sunlight promising freedom just above it, Allie noticed Gandalf turn towards the flames. The wall of fire separated to reveal a dark, horned head. Allie didn't believe in heaven or hell, but this looked more like a devil than anything she'd seen before. The black swirling mass roared and it filled her whole head as the Fellowship made it across the bridge. But Gandalf stopped halfway.

"You cannot pass!"

Frodo cried out a painful response and Allie watched in horror as the Balrog rose to its' full, all consuming height in front of Gandalf. She heard Patrick gasp beside her. Being Irish, he naturally carried a cross around his neck to please his mother, but he now grasped it in his clammy hands for comfort. Gandalf shouted at the monster and held his staff and his sword above his head. The Balrog drew a flaming sword of his own and lashed around a great fiery whip in warning. No one could do anything but watch in horror.

"Go back to the shadows!" Gandalf's staff flashed as he struck it against the bridge. A brief moment of hope filled Allie as the bridged collapsed into the darkness, taking the Balrog with it almost in slow motion. It was only Frodo crying out the wizard's name which made her realise there was never any hope. Gandalf was dragged towards the edge of the bridge by the Balrog's lingering whip, and with his last haunting look he uttered,

"Fly you fools," before disappearing. Frodo's heartbroken cries filled Allie's ears as the arrows once again rained down on them. They forced themselves to run outside into the blinding sunlight, Patrick pulling Aragorn's arm as he took one last lingering look at where Gandalf had stood moments earlier.

...

After days of darkness and despair, the sun brought little comfort. The hobbits collapsed onto the rocks sobbing, Aragorn allowed himself a brief moment of reflection, grief filled the faces of Legolas, Gimli and Boromir, and Allie found her hands shaking as she tried to focus on breathing now her adrenaline had gone. Patrick was silent and stony faced, staring into nothing, only a slight trembling lip betraying his stoic face.

"Come on! Get them up!" Aragorn attempted to rouse the devastated hobbits as Boromir pleaded for a brief moment, "by nightfall these hills will be swarming with orcs! We must reach Lothlorien by then."

Allie started to panic; Gandalf was their obvious leader. He had the power and the wisdom; what now? Who would lead the way? What if something worse than a Balrog appeared? Her memories of Gandalf falling started to blend into Lukas falling. She just let so many people down… she had so little power to help-

Her thoughts were interrupted by Boromir's hand on her shoulder. She took a deep breath, whipped her cheeks and turned with a stoic expression on her face,

"We best be going then." She stated plainly and Boromir nodded, searching her face for the emotion he had seen just a few moments ago. She hoisted Marry up gently by his forearm,

"Come on friend. The quicker we get up the quicker we can go to bed again, as I like to say." She gave Boromir a small smile and used her sleeve to wipe a few tears off Merry's dirt smeared cheeks.

Aragorn walked towards Patrick, who took a deep breath and appeared perfectly composed by the time the future king patted his arm in encouragement.

"Come on then, Pip-squeak," Patrick motioned for Pippin to pass him his pack and he hoisted it on top of his own, "Gandalf wouldn't want us dwelling on things in such an uncomfortable seating area." Aragorn admired his professionalism briefly before they set off running through rocky hills and across streams and branches, one member lighter but weighed down by their grief. Aragorn halted on a ridge, gazing at a large wooded area below and allowing himself a brief smile.

* * *

Phew! Long chapter full of film content!

Onto Lothlorien next, where everything goes wonderfully wrong...

Thank you again for the comments! They are much appreciated- will be slightly slower to update now with having to actually write the chapters and not be lazy ;) So sorry if any errors etc! Pobody's Nerfect!

Don't know if anyone has seen, but loads of Universities have put online courses for free in various places, so might attempt to become a pro in a random subject by the time we're all allowed outdoors again! (she says... not planning on getting up until the afternoon tomorrow...)


	12. The calm before the

"Stay close, young Hobbits! They say a great sorceress lives in these woods… one look upon her and you will fall under her spell…" Allie was tired, drained of all feeling and definitely didn't trust Gimli's stories of terrifying Elf witches as they stumbled through the tall trees. Patrick felt more comfortable now they were out of the harsh rock land of Moria and surrounded by nature more reminiscent of Rivendell. He couldn't stop thinking about Gandalf, the first person Patrick had met on Middle Earth; he had considered him a sort of replacement Sergeant, like Lukas- someone to rely on and confide in, and just like that he was gone.

"Well here is one Dwarf she won't ensnare so easily. I have the eyes of a hawk and the ears of a fox!" Gimli gloated, as Patrick felt an arrowhead rest against the middle of his back. This wasn't the warm welcome they'd expected after Aragorn's previous reassurances. A regal looking elf stepped forward. Patrick felt a different air to him from the Rivendell elves; more mysterious, a sense of professionalism and distrust from him. He supposed they were carrying the equivalent of a nuclear bomb into their land, he reckoned he'd be a bit suspicious of them too.

"The dwarf breathes so loud we could have shot him in the dark."

They were led to an outpost atop one of the great trees, as the more fluent members of the fellowship argued their right of passage with the haughty elf who had introduced himself as Haldir, Marchwarden of Lothlorien. There was a large network of checkpoints surrounding them within the tree tops, Allie supposed they'd be invisible to unwelcome eyes from below, and with their elf vision they could see any who wandered into their boarders. An effective method of keeping guard. Tensions were high as evening set in and Aragorn attempted to keep frustrations low, not helped by Gimli's blatant dislike for elves and the elf's apparent distaste for dwarves. The hobbits had looked around their surroundings with intrigue at first, then tried to stay awake as negotiations went on around them. Patrick and Allie sat with nothing to say, feeling helpless and discouraged.

"Gandalf's death was not in vain, nor would he have you give up hope. You carry a heavy burden, Frodo. Don't carry the weight of the dead." They overheard Boromir's hushed reassurances. Allie winced as she saw the slight distrust in Frodo's eyes, directed at the man who attempted to comfort him. She saw a flash of Boromir's more caring side which had seem to dissipate the further along the journey they'd travelled. 'Don't carry the weight of the dead,' the line resonated Allie. She resolved to tell Patrick about Lukas when- if- they were allowed into this Lothlorien. She would tell him the truth of what happened and face the consequences. He would probably hate her for keeping it hidden and not understand that she was trying to help, but that wouldn't last forever. It could always be worse, she thought to herself. Noticing the arguing had stopped, the fellowship looked towards Aragorn and Haldir.

"You will follow me," the elf finally said, though to where he didn't specify. Allie hoped if he were taking the to some sort of forest prison Aragorn would have put up much more of a fight. She noticed a vague similarity between the elf and the other two who paced in formation behind him and wondered if they were related, or if all elves looked similarly breath-taking. Allie whispered her thoughts to Patrick as they set off after the procession,

"You should ask them, that would make a great pick up line. I can ask him if he's single if you want, Allie. Probably a couple of thousand years older than you, though. What a cradle snatcher." Allie hoped none of them had magical elf hearing powers as she halfheartedly elbowed Patrick in return, secretly glad for the slight lifting of her spirits. As they marched though magnificent woods and perfectly green foliage with a wonderful navy light cast from the night sky, Allie felt almost safe for the first time since Rivendell. Maybe they would all sleep well tonight.

…

As they approached a giant network of trees and structures- Allie didn't think of them as buildings as they were too majestic and blended so seamlessly with their natural surroundings- Haldir had proudly announced it to be the chief city of Lothlorien, Caras Galadhon. They were to meet Lord Celebon and Galadriel, Lady of Light. Allie already felt too dirty to be in the presence of such important sounding people and quickly attempted to straighten out her sweaty, creased over-jacket. Patrick was excited, having read about the Lady of Light during his time studying at Rivendell. The elves he had met had fond words for the two, as they had lived for some time at Rivendell before departing for Lothlorien. As they ascended a winding stairway, which radiated light like a star in the night, they came upon a grand space. Light glowed pleasantly from lanterns in the trees and from the two people seated at the far end of the hall. The two figures rose majestically and appeared to float towards the Fellowship, hand in hand. No one could do anything but stare in awe. Allie thought they looked like angels.

"The enemy knows you have entered here. What hope you had in secrecy is now gone. Tell me where is Gandalf? For I much desire to speak with him. I can no longer see him from afar." Lord Celebon's low tones seeped authority and echoed around the hall. She noticed Patrick drop his head at the request for Gandalf and squeezed his hand slightly. The Lady Galadriel's face seeped with sympathy as she realised the wizard's fate, Allie wondering whether she could read minds, had some sort of all-seeing eye or could just read the downtrodden expressions on the Fellowship's faces. As the Lord and Lady discussed the fate of the fellowship, Allie felt a prying eye into her mind and saw the Lady observing her thoroughly. She couldn't tell what the look meant, whether it was comfort, or shame, or disappointment. As soon as she felt it, it was gone, and Galadriel turned her sights to the rest of the fellowship,

"Do not let your hearts be troubled. Go now and rest, for you are weary with sorrow and much toil." She ushered Haldir to guide them out, as they gave a slow bow which the Fellowship returned. Allie took a deep breath, feeling an intensity in this place that spread through the elves and into the trees that surrounded them; she supposed it was some sort of magic to protect, or maybe even communicate. The Marchwarden ushered them to a clear, enclosed area against a row of winding trees; Allie expected they'd have a close watch on the group through the night. As they settled down, Allie using her bag to rest her head on and placing her gun and her sword neatly behind her but still in reach, Patrick sighed and plonked himself on the grass next to her,

"Isn't this place just magical? I was looking at all the building structures and they're infused to the trees. And the Marchwarden's bow looks like some sort of wood but also metal. I'd really like to take a look in their library, if they have one… see if they have any more insight into things I saw at Rivendell. These elves… they're something else, maybe I should write a book." He sighed wistfully, chewing on some dried fruit and peacefully throwing his hands behind his head. Allie felt a pang of jealousy at how comforted Patrick felt by being there, in the presence of such magical people. It made Allie feel inferior; like she was intruding on something much bigger than herself. She looked over the rest of the fellowship, their expressions less pained and slightly more relaxed. Boromir had placed himself a ways apart from the rest, seated on a great tree root and looking over the vast forest city. She wanted to know how he was, what he was thinking... if she could help. As she battled with her thoughts, a whisper danced through the trees which turned into a solemn but beautiful song. The elves were chanting,

"A lament for Gandalf," Legolas explained, his face awash with a mix of sadness and peace. While she didn't know what they were saying, Allie could have cried at the rush of feelings the song washed over her.

"I bet they don't mention his fireworks," Sam contemplated,

" _The finest rockets ever seen_

 _They burst in stars of blue and green_

 _Or after thunder, silver showers_

 _Came falling like a… rain of flowers_." Patrick smiled fully for the first time in a long while,

"That was perfect." He moved towards the hobbits and began to reminisce on his short time in the Shire. They were eager to hear someone else's memories of the place, as it was so rare they got visitors from out of town, "and the beer! Frodo, remember that beer we had sat on the grass the first day we met? What I'd do for one of those right now." Frodo smiled faintly and nodded his head in agreement. Allie noticed Aragorn and Boromir in deep discussion aside from them and hoped Aragorn's wise words were providing some comfort for the man who was obviously uncomfortable in this place. As the fellowship settled down to sleep one by one, all remembering the Lady Galadriel's promise of a peaceful sleep, Allie walked over to where Boromir was still sat, his large figure crouched over his sword. She remembered the harsh words they had spoken in Moria and was eager to make amends, if only to have one less thing to worry about.

"May I sit?" She inquired, trying to be as polite as possible. Boromir nodded, almost surprised to see her and observed intently as she sat down,

"You should try and sleep. Who knows what we will face tomorrow. Aragorn places great trust in the elves and feels we will be quite safe under their protection." Allie shrugged and sighed a long sigh, wanting to cry but not wanting to look a fool,

"I have feared sleep recently. The further we go on this journey the more the monsters and… you know who, come to me in the night. I'm going to tell Patrick the truth tomorrow. He deserves to know. I have no right to keep it from him." Boromir only nodded and once again looked out into the trees.

"The Lady of Light spoke to me, in my head. She spoke of my father… of the fall of Gondor, but said even now there is hope left. I fail to see it." Boromir's voice cracked as he became lost for words, glancing over at Frodo, who had risen from his slumber and was slinking off into the woods. Allie could see Frodo's almost trance-like state and felt Galadriel calling to him.

"He looks to me to make things right, to save our people. And I try." Allie just wanted to hug the tension out of the troubled man and take his fears and worries and pressures for her own. This man had the weight of a city on his shoulders. His people, who he cared so much for, were his burden; she had relatively few pressures in comparison. She should be thankful, not concerned about having no power or part to play in this whole thing.

"Well, I know I'm not much, but I swear to help you in any way I can. The whole Fellowship are here to do the same. Whilst Frodo still has the ring, and our aim is still true; to help him destroy the ring," she felt Boromir flinch slightly beside her, "then only good can come from that. It may be naïve of me, but Gandalf and the council at Rivendell agreed to this mission for a reason, and until we all die I still have hope. Even if we do die, we died trying and that's the best any of us can do." Allie realised she didn't have the knack for uplifting speeches and didn't think it helped much, so muttered an awkward 'sorry' after a few minutes of silence.

"You have much more value than you award yourself," Boromir replied after her broken apology, "I appreciate you greatly. As does everyone who meets you. I hope one day I can show you my city, and my people. And they will see you how I do." Allie felt slightly at peace as she yawned slightly,

"Please Boromir, do try and sleep," and as she herself laid down next to a snoring Patrick, eyes starting to flutter shut and wishing with all her might she didn't dream, she saw Boromir lay down his cloak and looking peacefully up at the canopy of trees. Maybe they were friends again… that would be one thing to tick off the to- do list, she pondered briefly before dropping off.

…

Allie woke from a dreamless sleep to silence. The rest of the Fellowship were gone, nothing but grass and their bags where they slept last night were left. She started to panic, jumping to grab her sword before noticing a sight that quenched her fears. Lady Galadriel was stood by the tree Boromir had sat by the night before, a knowing smile on her face. Her long golden hair cascaded around her glowing dress. Allie quietly pondered whether she'd been watching her sleep long, then remembered the lady could read minds and blushed slightly. Galadriel laughed a soulful, tinkling chuckle,

"Come. The others have gone to bathe. I thought we'd afford you a little privacy." Allie silently followed the Lady, not knowing what to say except a small thank you, and feeling extremely inferior and dirty. She had seen many a grubby soldier walking freely to the showers with his willie wafting through the desert air, and was happy to be able to wash without having to constantly check for any unwanted visitors- not all soldiers were as polite as Patrick or her platoon. As they strolled through the trees, Allie could hear the joyful cries of Hobbits and Patrick, and hearty guffaws of Gimli in the distance. She smiled at the thought of them sat in a pool somewhere, relaxed and enjoying each other's company and forgetting about Moria for a moment. Galadriel looked at her intently again, her arms held in front of her as she glided over the soft ground. Allie felt as if she were clomping in her boots next to the graceful lady, and subconsciously tried to lighten her steps. Galadriel gave another small smile,

"What do you fear, my child?" Allie raised her eyebrows at the elf's unexpected question as her mind whirred- should she be honest? Reserved? Pour her heart out to this lady?

'Tell me whatever you wish to tell me,' and she realised the Lady of the Light's mouth didn't move; she was speaking straight into her mind. Honesty was evidently the best policy, then.

"I suppose… I fear failure. Disappointment of others, letting people down. Not having a purpose, or an aim. Feeling helpless. I fear not knowing why I'm here or what my role is. I fear Patrick dying, but also having to tell Patrick about Lukas. I fear Frodo might die and the ring will be lost to the dark. I fear Boromir will do something reckless for what he perceives to be the good of his people. I fear everyone in the Fellowship dying and I fear being all alone…" she looked at Galadriel with pleading eyes, for any kind of answers or advice. Ideally, she could tell Allie exactly what to do and exactly when to do it and Allie could just get on with it.

"I cannot tell you what to do… or when to do it. That is for you to know when it comes to pass. Not everyone can save the world, Alexandria, and not everyone is here to do so."

"So… we might not have some higher purpose in all of this? Why are we even here then?" Allie noted with slight fear that Galadriel knew her real name, something only Patrick knew… had Patrick told? She'd have to kill him if so.

"Even the smallest deed can have significance. You might not have the whole world on your shoulders like dear Frodo or Lord Aragorn, but you can help to make a difference. The world works in mysterious ways; I have been here for several lifetimes and still confess to not knowing it all. Truth and honesty will help most things endure; however bleak things may seem. Ah! We have arrived. I find the cleansing of the body and the mind to be a very cathartic experience." They had arrived at a small natural pool formed within the roots of surrounding trees. Allie noticed a towel had been placed over a branch and nearly cried with relief. Her hair was greasy, and her skin was caked with dirt and orc bodily fluids which has seeped through her uniform. She turned, remembering her formalities and bowed, giving her thanks to the Lady of Light who mysteriously disappeared into the trees. Allie was left to ponder Galadriel's words. She peeled off her uniform, leaving on her under vest and pants just to be safe- they could do with a wash anyway- before slowly dipping into the water. It was cool, but not unbearable, and she dipped her head in and out to wash away the pain of Moria.

She had calmed a bit, knowing her role in this whole thing was less significant than they had previously worried. Like her duties in the army at home, she just had to do what she thought was best for the wider mission. And that was protect Frodo and the ring at all costs. She pondered the ring briefly, how she had felt less of the impeding pressure when she wasn't close to it. About how Boromir had told her his father wanted the ring to use. About how everyone had strongly advised against that. She also determined to tell Patrick as soon as was appropriate about Lukas.

As her fingers started to prune up, Allie grabbed the towel and dried herself whilst dipping her blood encrusted jacket and trousers in the water. Giving them a quick scrub, she rung them out and looked around, trying to remember which way to get back. Pulling on her shirt and leggings and carrying her wet clothes, she set off in the general direction they had arrived in and hoped for the best.

…

Arriving at the clearing, she saw Patrick searching through his bag,

"Looking for something?" She inquired as she hung her wet clothes over a low tree branch, hoping they'd dry magically quickly.

"Did you say we brought some toothpaste? I remember Lukas using it before we… well, arrived here, but don't know if we used it in the meantime. I want to make myself extra super clean as can be. Haldir said he'd take me to their library, then show me all the outposts! He's interested to hear about our armies and technology. They're all about stealth missions in this place. You slept in ages- did you love the pool? We missed you at ours but naturally that would have been slightly awkward. I bet you enjoyed the peace and quiet." Patrick rambled on as Allie couldn't help but smile at the joy which had returned to him, and instantly felt sick to her stomach at what she had to tell him next.

"Check my bag, it's probably in there. Listen, Patrick, I really have to tell you something…" Patrick suddenly stopped rummaging through her pack,

"Allie… why is Lukas' first aid pack and dog tag in your bag?" _shit. Double shit. Triple shit._ Allie walked over to Patrick and tried to place a hand on his shoulder. He shrugged it off and turned to face her, confusion in his eyes.

"That's what I wanted… what I've been meaning to tell you. When I arrived here, before I found Boromir, I found Lukas. We got attacked by wargs… these giant wolf things... he saved me but… it got him. He died quickly. I hoped, like you said, if we died he'd just go back. Oh, Patrick it's been killing me not telling you, but I just didn't want to make things worse. I wanted to protect you. I was going to tell you, but it was just hard… finding the right time…" Tears were flowing freely down her face as her eyes begged him to understand. Patrick's face was unmoved, but the fury in his eyes she had seen only once before, on the mountains before they descended into Moria, had returned.

"You always think you know what's best. Protect me? You let me think Lukas was alive, Allie. You've made me look a fool. I thought we knew each other better than that." He spat out his words, before ripping Lukas' dog tag from his first aid kit, throwing the latter on the floor and turning to storm off,

"Wait! Please, Patrick. We need to talk about this. Where are you going?" She reached out to grab his arm and he shook her aside,

"I've got to go and meet Haldir. And think. And be away from you." Allie watched him walk into the woods as she stood helplessly alone, before picking up Lukas' first aid kit and placing it back in her pack. She allowed herself a few more minutes of crying, before trying to compose herself and wipe her face dry. She pulled on her half dry clothes; she wanted to suffer in the damp- it's what she deserved. She didn't know what she expected from Patrick, or if that went well, but it was done. She had felt terrible, but it was done.

She was keeping busy organising her bag and creating a mental itinerary of the contents to calm herself before the rest of the Fellowship turned up. Merry and Pippin rushed up to her with a plate of food they had gathered from various elves,

"We thought you'd be hungry! You were fast asleep when we went to the pool this morning, did you enjoy it? Isn't this place magical? Your hair is still wet!" Their eager ramblings reminded her of Patrick, and it was both a comfort and a painful reminder. They playfully tugged on her damp hair as she quietly thanked them for the food and half-heartedly nibbled on a piece of bread. "We saw Patrick walking away. He's going to speak with the Marchwarden. Sam wished he could have gone too. He loves the elves." The rest of the Fellowship looked at her with slight concern, as they had seen the fire in Patrick's eyes as he stormed past them on their way back.

* * *

Thanks for reading! I've also written the next chapter AND have grand plans for the next few look at me go!

Tensions are high! That bloody ring ruining everything! Also terrible decisions on Allie's part... but still...

Again sorry if any errors but I seem to check these at the sensible time of 1 in the morning so things may slip by!


	13. And into the fire

They remained in Lothlorien for a few weeks. Allie barely saw Patrick, who spent most of his time in the library with the elves full of wisdom about their past and the present, or with Haldir, discussing their armies and the mysterious technology and weapons Patrick had detailed in his notes. It was rare elves had something new to learn, considering their long lives and limited dealings with complete strangers. She resolved to leave him to heal and mourn, and in time he would hopefully befriend her again. Boromir spent most of his time mulling over his thoughts. The longer they remained in Lothlorien, the angrier he got at their inaction. Aragorn had argued they needed the rest- both their bodies and their minds. But Allie could feel the tension within the group; they would have to leave soon. Their departure was preluded by Galadriel bringing them gifts for their onward journey. For Legolas, a bow of the Galadhrim, for Merry and Pippin, two fine daggers, for Sam some elven rope, for Boromir a golden belt and for Frodo, a crystal phial. Allie hadn't seen what the Lady had given Patrick, and Gimli had been secretive as to his gift. For Allie, she had one day pulled her aside and gifted her with a small flask,

"This is Miruvor, something very precious. It renews hope and strength when they are lost. It refreshes both the body and the spirit. Use it wisely." She had attempted to show her true gratitude to Galadriel through deep thanks and a bow. All initial suspicion and fear of Lothlorien she had felt upon arrival had dispersed quickly. It was a place of great comfort, power and trust.

The fateful night had arrived. The Fellowship had agreed to rise at the crack of dawn and set off on their journey. They were to ride the river downstream to the Falls of Rauros, before setting off again on foot towards Mordor. They had been warned about Mordor Orcs to the east and strange new creatures to the west, bearing a white hand and travelling under the sun. The news was bleak, but that was nothing new. They had a restless night's sleep, though Allie noticed she had not dreamed since reaching Lothlorien and was grateful, before waking up with the hazy sunlight to pack supplies into their canoes.

"Are you ready?" She pried Patrick in attempts to create conversation with her friend. They had spoken little and briefly over the past few weeks, Allie not wanting to overstep her boundaries. She could feel the presence of the ring slowly return upon their impending departure, and it filled her mind with regret and paranoia and Lukas.

"I'm not coming with you." Patrick replied softly but his eyes were determined, "Galadriel's gift to me, she said I could stay as long as I needed. Learn from Haldir and help him protect Lothlorien. I could learn so much from them, maybe teach them about things in return. I don't know… technological advancements, cars, that kind of thing." Allie's breath caught in her throat as she understood his words,

"What about the mission we were given? Protect the hobbits. What about us? You might never see us again." Patrick merely shrugged, explaining Galadriel had told him their paths might be different and there was no harm in that; every choice had a purpose. Allie felt the tears spring into her eyes at the thought she may never see Patrick again. And to leave like this, while he despised her. She blamed the ring, she blamed Galadriel, He shouldn't have been given the choice, the ring was obviously making him angrier than he should have been.

Then she took a deep breath. The reason they were in this mess was because she had tried to protect him and it went too far. He was a man, he could make his own decisions. She would just miss him terribly,

"If that's what you think is best, then I'm happy for you. I will miss you though." Patrick nodded stiffly and continued to help with placing supplies in the boats. His mind was whirling. It was filled with a rage he'd never felt before. He was still furious at Allie, her want to control people and make decisions from them. The thought of Lukas' body out there, all alone. He needed to be away from her, to be his own person. He knew the ring was increasing his anger but he didn't care, if anything, it made him excited to make his own decisions for once. To defy Allie. Allie... the look on her face also broke his heart. Part of him wanted nothing more than to hug her, than to laugh with her again. But it was too late for that. He feared what would happen if he went with them, so it was best for everyone if he stayed. Haldir would help him, and he would help Haldir- he was going to teach them how to make landmines. They'd be the most well protected elves in all the land. They were expecting an attack from Mordor themselves, and Patrick wanted to help in return for their helping of the Fellowship.

…

The fellowship stood in a line in front of their boats as Lord Celeborn, Galadriel, Haldir and Patrick sent them on their way. They had been gifted with Elven cloaks,

"May these help shield you from unfriendly eyes," Celeborn announced, pinning it around Allie's shoulders. They said their farewells and the Fellowship embraced Patrick. The Hobbits were devastated when they'd heard he wouldn't be coming with them and gave sympathetic looks to Allie as they stepped onto the boats. Allie took one last look at Patrick as they floated away, they had hugged and Allie had whispered one last apology into his ear, Patrick had sighed deeply and held her cheek with his hand and they had parted. Allie wondered if she'd ever see him again. They rowed away, Allie in a boat with Legolas and Gimli and the hobbits paired up with the two larger men, and caught the current of the river Anduin.

"I have taken my worst wound at this parting, having looked my last upon that which is fairest. I will call nothing fair unless It be her gift to me," Gimli sighed longingly, having taken quite a shining to Lady Galadriel. Legolas pried as to her gift to the dwarf and he patted his chest pocket in a happy daze,

"I asked for one hair from her golden head. She gave me three." Allie smiled, picturing Patrick's snarky 'I wonder what your children would look like' response. He is probably in the safest place he could be now, she assured herself. And now it was time for her to worry about other things.

They paddled gently down the river, marvelling at the sights that surrounded them. The river was wide and forests surrounded them on either side. They felt a change in energy as they left the lands watched by Lothlorien guards, an air of urgency replacing the magic. Something was brewing. Allie passed the time during her turn rowing by telling stories from her world. One which intrigued Gimli the most was the fierce Lady knight Sigourney Weaver, her curly hair battering through the wind as she defeated the terrifying Alien Queen,

"And she picked up her gun- that weapon I've got, and screamed GET AWAY FROM HER, YOU BITCH- bitch in our world means big scary lady, basically, and she pushed the giant creature out of the door and into space- in space all the way up there past the clouds, in our world, it's like a vacuum. The thing got sucked out and was defeated. Lady Sigourney saved the young girl and they went on many adventures together." Legolas was most intrigued by her tales of submarines ('boats that go underwater? Surely not') and her world having an army of the sea, due to his interest and longing to see the ocean. The hobbits were interested in her tales of the knights of the round table, of King Arthur and Lancelot facing dragons and other mysterious creatures,

"that sounds like it could have happened right here in Middle Earth!"

"Bilbo was always telling tales of dragons." They debated, as the group had pulled their boats ashore and settled down for the night. They ate some Lembas bread which calmed their souls before laying down for an uneasy rest. They took turns keeping watch as the hobbits shuffled around, trying to find comfort amongst the roots in the ground. Allie noticed Boromir looking more and more haggard and frustrated as he barely ate or slept. He had tried to convince Aragorn to take the road to Minas Tirith, but Aragorn had little faith. They had exchanged furious whispers before separating, Boromir to stare upriver and Aragorn to sit by the fire and poke it with a stick. She could see conflict in Boromir's eyes, and for the first time feared the man she had come to trust. If he tried to do something drastic, could she trust herself to act against him?

…

Allie woke up paranoid. There was definitely someone- or something following them along the river. That coupled with every snap of a twig and the warnings from the Elves at the orcs on their tail, the fellowship were constantly on edge. They rowed again throughout the day, Legolas, Gimli and Allie taking shifts to rest their arms. Legolas had described his own home to Allie, detailing the differences between Mirkwood and the other elven lands she had seen. Gimli interjected with stories his father had told him about his time as prisoner there, Legolas smiling as he recollected Gimli's equally stubborn senior. The two appeared to be more amicable after Gimli's newfound appreciation for Galadriel. As the sun started to disappear beneath the trees, they pulled the boats ashore again and settled down for dinner. Merry and Pippin had crafted fishing rods and caught some fish whilst Boromir rowed them along the river. They cooked it over the fire and it proved a nice change from dried food and bread. Allie pulled out an old pack of cards in her pack and tried to teach everyone how to play Crazy Eights; Legolas won, much to the dismay of the hobbits.

The next morning, they rose and resumed their routine of short breakfast and rowing. Allie was calmed by the monotony of rowing down the great river and admiring the various trees and mountains. Aragorn gasped in excitement as they came upon two towering figures,

"The Argonath! Long have I desired to look upon the kings of old. My kin." The statues, carved into the mountain, proudly stood on each side of the river as if protecting the land. Gimli admired the craftsmanship whilst Allie wondered how someone could have gotten so high as to carve them. They floated past, admiring the ripples in their stone robes, and not long after could see the towering hill of Amon Hen. A little beach was where they rested their canoes, and the Fellowship started to make camp as Aragorn explained they would cross onto the East bank at nightfall and continue to Mordor on foot. Some got firewood and others started unpacking their supplies as Gimli began to terrify Pippin with their future path, full of razor-sharp rocks and festering marshlands.

"Well then I suggest you take some rest and recover your strength, Master Dwarf," Allie snorted as Gimli grumbled at the mere suggestion he may have strength to recover.

"I'll have you know a dwarf can go several days without rest and still have sufficient strength, I once had an uncle…" he started rambling on to Pippin about a great tale of a brave warrior dwarf, when Merry returned with wood for the campfire. He dropped it in alarm,

"Where's Frodo?" The Fellowship rose with a start and Allie noticed a pack and a shield resting alone by a tree,

"Where's Boromir?" she whispered to Aragorn, and they gave each other a solemn look,

"Hobbits. Stay as close to the campsite as possible. We shall split up and search for them. There are dangerous things that draw near." Aragorn instructed, and Allie grabbed her sword whilst throwing her gun over her shoulder… just in case. She instructed Marry and Pippin to stay close to her for safety, not daring to think what could happen to them, and trusting Aragorn would find Frodo surely enough. They wandered around the mid base of the hill as Aragorn raced to the top to gain a better vantage point. Allie had a churning feeling in her stomach; something was coming.

"Merry, Pippin, run and get behind those nice big bushes for me please." They looked at each other in confusion and fear before running to duck behind some tree trunks. She unsheathed her sword as Frodo came running down the hill. Merry and Pippin ushered him towards their hiding spot, but Frodo refused. They realised he was leaving, and he wouldn't be taking any of them with him. A group of terrifying creatures appeared in the distance, racing down the hill. They looked like the orcs Allie had seen in Moria, but worse. Bigger, darker, more blood curling roars coming from their fanged mouths.

"Run Frodo, go!" Merry cried then bravely started calling for the attention of the creatures. Allie was terrified, but knew what had to be done, as they started running the monsters away from where Frodo was stood in conflict. Allie stopped at the head of an old stone bridge, turning to face the oncoming group of creatures. She knew she had no chance against the pack of things, but if she could just give the hobbits a chance-

"Go Merry! Run and hide," she tried to sound brave, but her voice cracked with nerves. The continued to the other edge of the bridge as she pulled out her gun and shot into the group to pause them, then ran at one to stab its' neck as they rose from the ground, surprised but relatively uninjured by any bullet wounds they received. This did not fill Allie with much hope. She heard commotion behind her and noticed the Hobbits had been halted by another group of orcs- or whatever they were. They were surrounded. The hobbits pulled out their daggers as Allie stabbed at the things, arms aching as she blocked their strong blows. Allie panicked as she saw one raise its' axe and run towards the hobbits whilst she was occupied with another, but in the nick of time Boromir came charging in, knocking them back and defending the hobbits. Allie stabbed one of the creatures in its' face and kicked it against others to try and slow the attack. She turned and stabbed another in the back who was about to do the same to a distracted Boromir.

They caught each other's eyes as they were hemmed in and ended up back to back on the bridge. Boromir had a fierce look in his eyes Allie hadn't seen before, and as he raised his horn to his mouth and blasted out a long, echoing call, it distracted the creatures enough for Allie to clear her path a bit. She tried to get to the hobbits, but the creatures barred her way. She heard Boromir encouraging them to run as Allie used her sword to uppercut one of the orc things in between the legs, hoping they in fact had anything between the legs, before turning just in time to see a large black arrow enter Boromir's shoulder. She saw him gasp for breath and teeter backwards, she saw the little hobbits look at him in shock. He dropped to his knees and Allie could only watch as another orc came at him and Boromir again rose with a cry to slash him down. Allie ran towards them, hardly thinking as she bowled Boromir to the side as another arrow flew past her and skimmed his side. If she could only see… where the bugger was…

She raised her gun and saw a giant black creature, eyes mocking and evil, raise his bow again. She aimed and shot in his direction as another one pulled her from on top of Boromir and started strangling her. She grabbed at the thing's thick, black hands, gasping for air and vision blackening. Hands suddenly released her, and as she dropped to her knees she saw the Hobbits bravely stabbing at the sides of the creature which had been tying to kill her. She finished it off with a stab to the head, stars filling her vision and throat scratching as she turned to another creature who had attacked from the side. She blocked his sword, trying to defend Marry and Pippin behind her as she noticed the archer walking towards them from the hill. It appears she had shot him in the shoulder, and he was not best pleased. A cry from behind her distracted her enough for the creature she was fighting to slash her forearm and she winced as the blood seeped out of her jacket. She saw the archer ready his bow just a short distance from Boromir, and cried out as she noticed the creatures had grabbed Marry and Pippin and were starting to run. Boromir was about to be killed. Merry and Pippin were quickly getting away. This creature had Allie pinned to a tree as she attempted to headbutt its' nose, and in response it grinned a disgusting grin before spitting some blood onto her face. What a way to go, she thought bitterly, orc spittle dribbling past her mouth.

Aragorn suddenly leaped at the archer from above, his arrow flying off harmlessly to the side. They started to fight as Allie used the distraction to manoeuvre a free hand off her sword hilt, which was already shaking from the effort of making sure the creature's sword didn't enter her throat- to dig into a stab wound she'd already created in its' torso. The creature writhed away as she tried to grab onto any flesh or innards she could, and her hand slipped out covered in black blood as the creature staggered back. She used the brief moment to run her sword right into his chest and with the momentum, fell on top of his limp body as it crashed to the floor. She looked up to see Aragorn slicing the archers arm off and stabbing it straight in the chest. She remembered Boromir, who was now sat against the tree, panting and holding the arrow in his shoulder. She cried out his name and ran towards him, forgetting the mild pain she had started to feel in her forehead from the definitely misjudged headbutt. Her gun was laid beside him and she threw her sword next to it as she observed the damage. She had dealt with bullet wounds before, but arrows were new territory for her. He was breathing hard and she cupped his cheek to try and sooth him before Aragorn came to run up and kneel next to them,

"They took the little ones," Boromir panted, grimacing in pain. Allie remembered Lukas' first aid kit,

"Aragorn! I have… medicine and bandages in my bag!" Aragorn was looking at the arrow, then to Allie's hopeful face,

"Then run for it. I will see if there is any poison on the arrow." She heard Boromir asking where Frodo was as she ran as fast as her legs could carry her back towards camp. She grabbed her bag and ran back up the hill, lungs screaming for breath.

"Forgive me. I did not see it. I have failed you," she heard Boromir mumble to Aragorn as he strained from the pain and she crashed down beside him.

"Ok, ok…" she mumbled, rummaging through the kit. Her focus encouraged her not to think, think about Boromir probably dying, as she tried to switch on her professional soldier mode. She had seen Lukas patch up endless bullet wounds, done a few herself and knew how to clean a wound and reduce pain and it… would be fine. She took a deep, shaky breath as Legolas and Gimli appeared in the clearing, "Aragorn, should the arrow come out? It won't snag or anything? I have this... syringe. It contains sponges which expand and plugs wounds... it works for bullets anyway. And how is the side? I have alcohol cleaning wipes to disinfect and clean the wound, then this gauze which helps with clotting. And miles of bandages should help. I don't know about poison though…" Aragorn patted her arm as she ambled, putting items out of the bag.

"Leave it, I beg you. I have failed you all. All will come to darkness. My city to ruin," Boromir strained, trying to grab Allie's hand to stop her from helping.

"You've failed no one. And there's one less chance your city will be ruined if you're there to help now isn't there?" Allie tutted, slapping his hand away. She looked at Aragorn, determination in her eyes.

"I can get the arrow out, as long as there is something to stop the blood flow. You be ready with your… items" He held the part of Boromir's shoulder to the left of the arrow and encouraged Allie to hold the right. He offered Boromir a piece of wood to clench his teeth onto and made no warning before pulling the arrow out as cleanly as possible. A little blood squirted from the wound, but Allie noted from her first aid training it wasn't pumping out. Aragorn pulled aside Boromir's leather overthrow and ripped open the hole in his shirt the arrow had left. She didn't think it had hit a crucial vein or anything. She quickly wiped the wound with an alcohol wipe, along with the syringe itself before inserting it into the ragged hole, noting absentmindedly that bullet entry points were a lot cleaner than arrow ones. She released the tiny sponges into it and watched as they quickly expanded and turned red at the sides. She took a deep breath and composed her thoughts,

"How are you doing Boromir?" She tried to see if there was any sign of shock in his face- she'd seen many a time someone's wound be fixed then shock knock them into unconsciousness. She gave him some water which he swallowed down, and she moved towards the side another of the archer's arrows had sliced past. "Is it ok if I…?" She tried to be polite about having to lift his top up,

"Don't think now's the time to be worrying about that, lassie," Gimli snorted from aside. She frowned at him before remembering,

"The Miruvor! Galadriel gave me something called Miruvor… said it would renew strength and hope… or something. Will that help?" Aragorn nodded,

"Miruvor is very precious. It does indeed contain many restorative properties," she pulled out the flask and poured some into Boromir's mouth, looking at his face for any instant sign of magic elf recovery. She looked back at his side, and he grimaced again as she rolled up his top to see the damage. There was a long, deep wound along his side, (very nice, muscly side, Allie's brain whispered to her and she quickly pushed away those thoughts) which she again cleaned. She stuffed it with some gauze and held up some bandages. Aragorn helped her to wrap them around Boromir's waist to keep the gauze from slipping and apply as much pressure to the wound as possible,

"That wound will need stitching up," Aragorn noted, "he will need to see a healer as soon as possible." Boromir was breathing more steadily now, yet the anguished look remained on his face,

"I do not deserve this. Please, leave me now. Let's go after the hobbits. I have been given a chance; it is for fate to decide if I deserved it." The cordial gifted to her by Galadriel appeared to be working, as Boromir managed to move himself up to a better seated position, wincing as he did so. Allie looked at what was left of the fellowship,

"We should head back to shore. I think Frodo means to travel to Mordor alone." Legolas and Gimli looked shocked as Aragorn merely nodded. Aragorn and Legolas helped to gently haul the large Gondorian up, an arm around both of their shoulders, before they made their way down the hill to camp. Allie took a quick moment to pack up Lukas' first aid kit, thanking the lucky stars he had brought it with him, or rather, she had taken it from him. Guilt panged in her chest as she remembered Lukas bartering with an American marine for the syringes in Iraq- the marine was complaining he had no money to buy his girlfriend a present before his return, having spent it all on booze and prostitutes, so Lukas bought 2 off him for a hundred dollars- not mentioning retail price was a hundred dollars apiece- 'for emergencies,' he had said. He always was a great forward planner, and selfless… a sudden sob escaped Allie's mouth and she felt a rough but comforting hand on her shoulder,

"Let's be going, lassie." She didn't look at Gimli as she quickly wiped her face, threw her pack on her back and grabbed her weapons,

"Well that didn't go to plan," she muttered, and Gimli could only chuckle tiredly in return,

"You're bleeding," Gimli noted plainly, pointing his axe head at her arm. She absentmindedly noted the cut on her bicep, blood slowly dripping down her jacked sleeve, had cut a giant line down the middle of her astronaut tattoo.

…

Aragorn and Legolas had rested Boromir by his pack, next to the fire they never managed to start. It was nearing the evening, and Legolas hurried to a boat and started to push it towards the water,

"Hurry! Frodo and Sam have reached the eastern shore," Allie could spot two tiny figures across the river, but Aragorn didn't respond, just sighing as he watched the hobbits run into the forest, "you mean not to follow them?" Allie could tell from Aragorn's face that they were now on a different path to Frodo. And the ring. She looked over at Boromir and wondered if he would improve quicker now the ring was slowly moving out of their sight. She instantly felt guilty for thinking so; Frodo was about to face a monumental mission of which he most likely wouldn't survive, she couldn't be thinking about herself.

"Then it has all been in vain. The fellowship has failed," Gimli mourned dejectedly. Aragorn turned from the river and looked at what remained of the Fellowship,

"Not if we hold true to each other. We will not abandon Merry and Pippin to torment and death. Not while we have strength left." Allie looked at Boromir, who was attempting to rise by himself to ready himself to chase after the hobbits. She didn't want to undermine his strength, but also knew there was no way he'd survive,

"Boromir, I think you need a day's rest before we go anywhere. And a healer. Didn't you say Edoras was close by?" Allie looked towards Aragorn, who nodded,

"It can be three or four days journey from here… dependent…" Aragorn didn't continue but Allie knew he meant dependent on how quick the person could move. Boromir was beginning to protest,

"I must follow, we must save the Hobbits, or this will have all been for naught. Let me run and if I fall behind, leave me." Allie groaned in frustration at his stubbornness,

"I am just a human. You three will be able to run night and day. I will definitely slow you down. Take some of the remaining Miruvor to set you on your path and Boromir and I will travel into Rohan. Who knows, you may end up there yourself eventually when you have saved Marry and Pippin," she gave a small grin at them as Boromir sighed at the logic,

"So be it." Aragorn nodded in agreement and himself, Legolas and Gimli quickly went about unstrapping anything they didn't need from their clothes to travel as lightly as they could, before accepting a drink from Allie's phial.

"I would have followed you, my King," Boromir grabbed Aragorn's shoulder with respect as Allie bid farewell to Gimli and Legolas,

"There is still time. Come, let's go hunt some Orc!" Aragorn replied, Gimli hollered with glee and the three ran off into the woods, following the direction the orc creatures had escaped with the hobbits.

…

Silence greeted Allie as she started a fire and observed the camp. The packs of Merry and Pippin laid where they left them and the items the three had left before following were piled up by a tree. Boromir was propped up and laid on spare clothes and cloaks that had been left behind, his eyes shut and his breathing heavy and jiggered. He had refused any offer of pain relief from Allie; she supposed he had wanted to suffer as a punishment. She had observed and redressed the wounds before he had laid to rest, making sure there were no signs of infection or extensive bleeding. Boromir had hissed as she touched the skin near his wounds with the softest hands she could, but had afterwards placed his rugged, war torn hands on hers and gave a small thanks. That was all that was said that evening. Allie spent the night keeping watch, paranoid about any straggling orcs or other strange creatures entering their camp and killing them in their sleep.

Boromir had woken with a start the next morning and watched quietly as Allie cleaned the cut on her arm, jacked folded neatly on the floor beside her.

"You were injured?" He asked, wincing as he sat up against the tree behind him. He didn't feel all too terrible considering, and suspected the magic in the elvish potion had something to do with it.

"It's just a flesh wound," she grinned to herself, wishing Patrick were there to understand her reference, "oh, and I also tried to headbutt one of them. But I think it did more damage than good. How are you today? Did you sleep ok?" Boromir just nodded, watching her intently. Allie felt his gaze on her and moved to put her jacket back on. She could see he wanted to say something and noted the rage had all but gone from his eyes. His face was already calmer and as a result more youthful, aside from the odd moments of pain which caused his eyes to wince,

"I feel I must apologise. And thank you. I am in your debt for all you have done for me. I feel nothing but grief and shame- for all I have done and for all I haven't. I confess now it has gone; I realise the hold the ring had on me. That is not who I am. It threatened my people… told me the only way to save them was to have the ring. And I believed the words, because I was so afraid of… failure. It turned me into someone I am not. It prevented me from giving you the same care you afforded me. I could see your pain in Lothlorien and beyond but… something… stopped me from helping." She gave a small smile, desperate to help him see It was okay,

"I hold no grudges and neither do the rest of the Fellowship. It is evident why certain things happened; I can only hope you can eventually forgive yourself." Boromir pondered her words before accepting some Lembas bread she offered to him,

"We must head for Edoras today, the capital city of Rohan. The King Theoden will be familiar with my name; there is a kind alliance between Rohan and Gondor. He should provide us with shelter and then we can determine our next course. I would be eager to travel to Minas Tirith, to warn my father of the true nature of the ring, and of this new enemy which appears stronger and faster and less eager to die than orcs." He laughed bitterly, then added, "You fought them well." Allie blushed a little, unashamed to admit she loved praise and was definitely a teacher's pet,

"Can you walk? I don't know if we'll find a horse around these parts." Boromir slowly rose and tested the strength of his legs. He wobbled slightly, grabbing his side before balancing himself against his sword, "we can take it slowly!" she added quickly, "no rush. As amazingly strong as I am, I don't think I'd be able to carry you if you tripped or something," she gave a small smile and to her relief Boromir gave one in return. She figured they were both just feeling the relief of being alive. She thought how crazy it was that only a few hours ago she had been fighting for her life, against monstrous creatures using a sword no less, and contemplated just how drastically her life had changed. She spared a thought for the separated hobbits, glad Frodo had the trusty Sam by his side and full of hope that Aragorn, Legolas and Gimli were the right people for the job of relocating Merry and Pippin. She rose, dampened down the fire and observed their campsite. They resolved to pack any loose things into the remaining boats and push them down river into the waterfall, to ensure no prying eyes knew who had been there and where they were going. She then packed up their supplies, hoisted her weapons onto her shoulder and looked at Boromir. They were in an unfortunate position in that his injured shoulder was the opposite to his injured side. She considered for a moment,

"Whichever of your sides hurts less, I'll walk there. If you start struggling, you can lean on me." She knew Boromir would be way too modest to admit when he was struggling, so instantly put her arm around his waits as they set off. He had healed surprisingly well considering, as she had checked his wounds that morning. She supposed some of the Elven healing magic, combined with the Gondorian strength she had been told about, (Aragorn and Boromir had explained the Gondorians had descended from the Dunedain, who were the reason for Aragorn's great looks and strength at the ripe old age of 80 odd) possibly also combined with the effective blood clotting skills of her army standard gauze, resulted in an effective healing combination. At least something from the army actually worked well, she thought bitterly.

"I bet you're thrilled it's just the two of us again," Allie teased, as they walked through the trees and on towards the vast plains of Rohan, asking Boromir what his favourite birthday was- he had said he didn't have one, to which Allie laughed in response and called him a fibber, to which he then detailed his 10th birthday, the last one before his mother had died, where Faramir had helped her bake a cake whilst Boromir licked all the batter out of the bowl. Allie had subconsciously squeezed him in comfort with the arm she was helping to hold him up with, then told him about one of her most recent birthdays, where Patrick had become so drunk he was dancing and singing on a table so intensely, he kicked someone in the face and Allie had to stop them from punching him. Boromir recalled many a Gondorian birthday had probably ended that way.

* * *

Long chapter! I know that probably isn't how wounds and things work woops but oh well! Onto Rohan now and more problems! And maybe a Patrick part to see what he's up to!

I am torn between two paths/ plots in the future and if anyone wants to help decide that would be grand ;)


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